


Already Yours

by relic_amaranth



Series: October Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversary, Awkward reader, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, October, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, Reader-Insert, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 29,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You and Castiel don’t have a traditional relationship, but you’ve been happily together for a year now. Which begs the question– how do a human and an angel celebrate their one-year anniversary? You’re still not sure, but one thing is certain: it’s time to over-think things.





	1. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve got problems and Cas both is and isn’t one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing it again! Lord have mercy on our souls. Mostly mine x3 In any case, this is a sequel to "Revelations and Resolutions" (should be linked if I do this right) and is being done in the same style, wherein I have 32 prompts to fill over the next month, ending on November 1st. The summary is the general premise but as I will be writing day by day, I only have a very vague idea of what's going to actually happen. Plot may happen by accident but I can promise nothing other than 1: Reader and Cas are gearing up for their one-year anniversary, 2: I will incorporate the prompt (located in the chapter title) in some fashion even if it becomes just an aesthetic/feeling/some other vagary (because writing everyday is hard and I’m mostly doing this for fun), and 3: while some will be good and some will be not so good, I never post trash. If something comes out really bad I rewrite it. That said...I do hope you enjoy.

 

Dean is grumbling. Again.

“This sucks.”

“It was _your_ idea,” you snap. He glares at you, but he has been whining nonstop since before you got here and enough is enough.

“Boo!” Gabriel says, doing a ridiculous dance while wearing a dumb paper mask. Well at least _someone_ is having fun on this stupid excuse for a hunt. Even when Gabriel lifts the mask to look between you and Dean, he’s smirking. “Aw, come on you two. This is like ‘Hunting 101.’ It’s a piece of cake.”

You’re about to remind him that people are dying when Dean opens his mouth. Of course. “What self-respecting ghost hangs out in a Halloween ‘haunted’ house?!”

The kind that get carried there by an idiot who only had very passing knowledge in beginner’s witchcraft and wanted to spice things up in his seasonal attraction. Beginner’s witchcraft and no knowledge of how to placate a pissed off spirit means the idiot is now dead, and has resulted in you, Dean, and Gabriel trawling through a fucking cheesy-ass ‘haunted house’ at four in the morning looking for whatever may be holding him here while Sam and Cas do the same at the former operator’s house.

Cas.

Fuck.

“Why can’t we just torch the place?” you ask and rip apart a battered old armoire stained with fake blood and practically disintegrating from age. A crappy fake body falls on you, all hollow plastic and false cobweb nonsense, and you chuck it across the room. “At this point I think we’d be doing the world a favor.”

It’s incredibly quiet and you turn to see Dean and Gabriel just staring. At you. “What?” you ask, unintentionally harsh. They mirror each other, putting their hands up, palms towards you. You roll your eyes and turn forward and end up putting your throat right into the vaguely corporeal hands of one very angry ghost.

That really doesn’t help your mood.

 

Less than an hour later the ghost is smoked, his finger (ew) burned, and you feel a lot better, having salted him with everything in your shotgun before setting him on fire.

It was very therapeutic.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk,” you say and collapse into a chair in Sam and Dean’s room while you wait for Sam and Cas to come back.

“What’s going on?” Dean asks.

“Uh…it’s…” You bat your hand at the air and then pick up your stress ball to distract yourself. “It’s dumb.”

“No trouble in paradise then?” Gabriel says.

“No! No. Cas is great.” He really is. But then you think about _why_ you were so annoyed with this stupid hunt and the human who caused it and how much time you wasted on it and Cas is great and fine and wonderful but everything else is not.

“That face is not convincing,” Gabriel says.

“It’s– well–” You sigh and slump in your uncomfortable chair. “Cas is great. So great. And we’re coming up on our first anniversary and I have _no idea_ what I’m going to do for…it. For him. Give him. Whatever.”

Silence.

“You’re right,” Dean says. “That is pretty dumb.”

You chuck the stress ball at his face hard enough that when it hits it goes flying wildly off to the side, and Dean has some _very_ not nice things to say about you.

“I know _you_ don’t give a shit, but it’s important to _me_ ,” you say.

“It’s dumb because Cas is so fucking moon-eyed about you!” Dean throws his hands up in frustration and glares at you. One eye a little squintier than the other. Oops. “Gifts don’t matter to him.”

“They do if they’re thoughtful,” you say. “He really likes them if they’re good enough.” You jab a finger towards Gabriel. “And thank you in advance but I do _not_ need your help. This is something that has to come from me.”

Gabriel pouts but recovers quickly. “Can I offer suggestions?”

You consider, then nod. Terrible suggestions can be easily thrown out and Gabriel is a connoisseur of the finer things in life _and_ an angel. A unique position, and as the team shit-stirrer, there’s bound to be a few good ideas in there. Just to mess with you. “But you can’t tell Cas. Whatever I decide on, I want it to be a surprise.”

“Of course! I love surprises,” Gabriel says, grinning.

“Gabriel.”

“You’re no fun,” he says and pouts like he’s getting paid for it.

“I’m not trying to be– I mean, not to b– I’m not trying to _not_ –” You exhale heavily and wring out your hands. “It’s our first anniversary. It’s Cas’s first anniversary _ever_. I want it to be good for him.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Dean says and rolls his eyes, but he puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “He’ll like whatever you do. Just don’t overthink it.”

Right. Sure. That’s easy.

Not.


	2. Candied Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds enjoyment in food, but not necessarily for the reasons he should.

 

Castiel has a conundrum.

“Dean, may I speak with–”

“ _Fucking_ ; damn it, Cas!” Dean hurries to secure the towel. “What have I said about knocking?!”

“Oh.” Castiel steps back over the threshold, doorknob still in hand. “I apologize; I will wait outside while you dress.”

Castiel shuts the door and waits. And waits.

And _waits_.

He narrows his eyes. “Perhaps,” he says conversationally, “I should go speak with Sam for a while. I am very curious to see if many humans pose like–”

The door opens, a hand snaps out, grabs Castiel’s tie, and drags him back in the room. Castiel allows himself to be moved and he then waits patiently while Dean pulls on a shirt. But Dean is scowling, and that is not part of the plan.

“The time you spend in front of a mirror is entirely understandable; you have a very aesthetically pleasing ve– body.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters but his cheeks color. “Where’s the fire?”

“There’s no fire. But I do have an emergency. Of a personal nature,” Castiel says. “It’s about…one year anniversaries. And how humans generally go about celebrating them.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You know you have an entire month, right?”

“And not one single idea on how to go about it,” Castiel says. “I want to do this right. It’s only been a year but…” Castiel’s lips tug into a smile. “It’s been the best I’ve ever known.”

“If you get sappy I’m kicking you out; I don’t care _what_ you tell Sam.”

“I need your help,” Castiel says and makes eye contact with Dean. “This is an important milestone and I need ideas. I don’t want you to plan it. Ultimately, it must come from me, but I need…guidance.”

Dean shakes his head. “Why me?” he says. “Sam’s the one with experience long-term. I’m just…even when I had it I sucked at it.”

Castiel stares at him. “I doubt there is anything you have ever truly ‘sucked at,’ Dean.” Dean opens his mouth but Castiel goes on. “But even _if_ your considerable knowledge was in doubt, you are my best friend and I value your opinion. Yes, I will ask Sam as well because he is also my friend, but his opinions do not inherently have more worth than yours. You are far more brilliant and thoughtful than you give yourself credit for.”

Dean tries to speak but no words come out. Castiel waits patiently, well aware of how hard it is for either Winchester to accept so much sincerity. Dean more than Sam, admittedly.

Eventually Dean sighs with disgust. “Fine. Fine! Ideas _only_ ; I’m not dealing with rose petals or whatever other bullshit you get up to.”

“No rose petals,” Castiel agrees easily.

“That was just a– ah forget it.” Dean falls back to sit on his bed. “Let’s brainstorm.”

 

“Ooo!”

Castiel smiles as you rush forward to one of the more popular stands. His ‘brainstorming’ session with Dean went well. He thinks. Dean had eventually kicked him out (“Jesus Christ Cas you still have a month and– no, I _know_ , we’re not leaving it to the last minute but Goddamn I need a fucking break”) but had offered a last minute suggestion to “take them out or something; I think there’s a fair going on” before slamming the door.

So here you both are, at an autumn festival the next county over, and Castiel can only think of this as a positive. In a life like yours there isn’t much time for leisure, which is one of the reasons Castiel is having trouble thinking of a gift suitable enough for such a momentous occasion. Stolen moments together and the rare date do not give him enough information to choose appropriately.

Weapons and protective amulets are well and good, but this isn’t about practicality– this is about sentimentality, and he needs to better learn the latter. So this trip has a secondary purpose: gathering data. Castiel has been watching you to see what you’re drawn to, what you look at more closely, and he thinks he–

“Hey.”

Your voice, so suddenly close, startles him. When he looks, though, you’re smiling at him. “What’s got you so distracted, Cas?”

“Nothing important,” he lies. He doesn’t necessarily like that, but it’s for the greater good. He studies the paper container you hold. “Are those…apple pieces?”

Your smile is wide and bright and Castiel feels a surge of strong affection. “Yeah, but they’re special. See, that booth does candy apples so I got a combo of caramel and the regular candy coating, pre-cut and ready to eat. They’re great; trust me.”

“I do,” Castiel says softly and walks with you as you both start to eat the apple chunks. Truthfully, he doesn’t care one way or the other for the apples. They merely serve as a medium to taste the tips of your fingers as you feed him; to feel your lips and the barest flick of your tongue brush against the corner of his mouth as you clean away the sticky substance.

Candy apples. Candy. Fruit. He’s in a daze as you dump the trash and then hug his arm. He’s not sure if it’s one or the other, or that specific combination, but he’s more than willing to incorporate all three if it results in moments like this.

That night he makes a list, and ‘candied apples’ go at the top. It isn’t much, but it’s a start.


	3. Superstition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superstitions are interesting, but you and Cas have been through enough to know you’re masters of your own fates.

 

“Very superstitious…da da da da daaaa~” you sing and take your food out of the oven. You’re feeling pretty good today. You had an excellent date with Cas the other day at some sort of fall fair, ate a lot of good food, and followed it up with a fantastic night.

Sam and Dean are tending to their own needs today so you’re taking care of personal chores. Your room is clean, your laundry is done, the books you were going through are put back in their rightful places in the library, and now you’re taking a break to have some lunch. You sprinkle salt over your food and find that you have a bit extra, and you chuck it behind yourself without thinking.

“Puh,” comes a slight noise behind you and you turn to see Cas looking bewildered. Not uncommon, and certainly welcome. You’ll take every non-monster-killing-moment you can get with him.

“Cas!” You hug him. “Done already?”

“Yes.” He pulls you away and says your name so seriously you straighten up. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Has the bunker been breached?”

“Not that I know of.” You just saw Sam and Dean and they’re fine. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

He squints at you. Like you’re supposed to be the one worrying? What is going on. “Why did you think I was a demon?”

That, you can’t answer. “Why do you think I…” It dawns on you when you see a few grains of salt sticking in his hair, and you laugh and brush them away. “Oh, Cas, I’m sorry; that was just bad timing.”

“So you’re not fending off demons,” he says, slouching with relief.

“Uh, no. And I’ve got better than that,” you say and take out a portable rock salt container to shake.

“Of course,” he says. “But then why were you throwing salt?”

“Oh, um…it’s just a superstition,” you say and shrug. “Throw salt over your shoulder to ward off evil. I’ve done it so long that it’s just habit now.”

Cas nods and relaxes. “Not so much superstition, though. It’s true.”

“Yeah,” you agree and brush Cas’s hair back with your hand. “I wonder if other superstitions are true…”

“Hm.” But Cas takes your hand and kisses it and you’re not thinking much of anything but him.

Cas, the jerk, smirks like he knows. “What are some other ones?” he asks and takes your other hand in his. And there are no more kisses.

“Well,” you say, like you’re not trying not to pounce on him. In a game of playing coy, first one to move in loses. “Don’t walk under ladders…”

“That seems dangerous,” Cas agrees.

“Breaking mirrors gets you seven years bad luck.”

“Dangerous but…the consequence is baffling.”

You grin. “Don’t open umbrellas inside or that’s also bad luck.”

Cas squints at you again, but not curious, more wondering if you’re fucking with him. You laugh. “Honest! I don’t know where that comes from.”

“Hm,” he considers. “Are there any superstitions for relationships?”

He’s a bit too interested for how measurably casual he tries to come off as. But it does make you wonder. “Um…I actually don’t know of that many,” you say and think. “Don’t get a tattoo of your partner’s name. That, supposedly, dooms the relationship.”

“Easily done,” Cas says right away, like he’s taking notes. “Your tattoos are entirely practical.”

“Yes, they are.” You resist the urge to laugh. “And…um…I think you’re supposed to not kiss with your eyes open, but that one’s dumb.”

“I hope so,” Cas says, worry tugging at his tone. “We often kiss each other with our eyes open.”

“Yeah.” You smile, thinking of all the stolen kisses over the past year. You don’t think the superstition counts for cheek kisses or otherwise innocent little pecks, but you’re not going to tell him that. “Practically since day one. And we’re great.”

“Yes,” Cas says, smiling, and he pulls you in by your hands only to put his hand on your waist when you’re close enough. “It has always been difficult not to kiss you all the time.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’re not kissing me now,” you say teasingly and end up with a mouthful of angel. You return the kiss eagerly, keeping your eyes open just long enough to wink at him before sinking into the feeling and letting them ease shut in comfort.

 

Sam shuffles into the kitchen, yawning, and says your name. “Are you still making the– oh, jeeze; guys! We _eat_ in here!”


	4. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to figure out some gift ideas with Sam’s help. And with Gabriel’s too. Apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably entirely selfish of me but I kind of love that these are all remaining the drabbles I intended them to be, because I’ve never been able to do that consistently and I feel like I’m getting some good practice in.

 

What do you get for the angel that wants for nothing?

No, really, you want to know, because you have no idea. And it’s not that Cas has a lot (because if that was the case it would take one good round of snooping to get some good ideas) but he also doesn’t _need_ a lot, and doesn’t seem to want much, which doesn’t help when you’re trying to celebrate an anniversary.

It might be okay if Cas really didn’t care one way or the other, but he’s mentioned the upcoming date in passing and he can pretend to be as cool and aloof as he wants but you can tell he’s more than a little interested in “perhaps commemorating” it, you’re not _stupid_.

“Are you researching a case?” Sam asks innocently and looks over your shoulder. “Maybe I can he– …oh.”

“Yeah,” you say and rest your chin in your hand. “Thanks anyway.”

Sam pats your shoulder consolingly and moves on. After a few minutes he comes back with a small stack of books and sits down. “You know, I doubt Cas needs much of anything.”

“That’s the problem.” You close out of a few tabs and rub your eyes. “What do you get someone when they don’t need or want anything?”

“An experience?” Sam suggests.

“Anything I can reasonably do I’ve already…done,” you say. “I’m not exactly rolling in that sweet, sweet monster-killing dough, and coffee dates are kind of awkward when only one of you drinks coffee.”

Sam inclines his head slightly and you both settle back into quiet. The loudest thing in the room is your occasional typing and his page-flipping.

“You know…Cas doesn’t _know_ everything.”

You look at Sam, wondering where he’s going with this. He huffs a little laugh. “I don’t mean anything by it,” he says. “Just, whenever he’s in the library he seems to find one book or another of how humans learned to deal with the supernatural and he’s…fascinated.”

That’s an interesting thought. “Lore books, or spell books?” you ask. “Probably less of the spell books, actually.”

“Less of, but maybe don’t count those out entirely,” Sam says. “Especially not the benign ones.”

“True,” you say. You look around the library and wonder for a moment what you can find outside of the library and archives, but there are a surprising amount of handwritten books to be found, for reasonable prices, if only you know where to look. “Thanks Sam. I’ll think about that next time we hit up a shop.”

“No problem,” he says. He almost goes back to his book but then stops. “Have you looked up what the traditional theme is for the first year?”

“Yup,” you say. “Paper.”

“Seriously?”

You grin and go to make a joke but that exits your mind as you are suddenly surrounded by stacks of– …of paper…

Sam calls your name and two of the stacks on the table collapse and fall over and into your lap, leaving one wild-eyed Winchester to stare in a confused panic. “Gabriel!” you yell out but Gabriel does not appear. What does appear is a paper that floats daintily into your hands, with neat doodles and a fancy script that reads, ‘I can be helpful too.’

Sam groans and you shake your head. Goddamn jealous archangel brat.

However, on the bright side, you won't have to go searching for scratch paper anytime soon, and as much as it is, it’s only in your immediate area. You and Sam relocate a couple chairs and a table, stack it all up against the wall, and all is well.

And to be fair, in the end you do find a use for the paper.

 

Cas crinkles his nose as the paper airplane drifts in and lands perfectly in his hair. He picks it out and unfolds it to read the message– after which he smiles dreamily at you. It’s a good look on him, and if you can spend your life looking at it, you will.

Dean leans over and reads the note. “‘I love…you…’” he says, scoffs and looks at you like you’re a disappointment. “Are you _twelve_?”

You pick out another piece of paper, scribble a rudimentary drawing of a middle finger, and hold it up.

Maybe paper isn’t such a bad gift after all.


	5. Symbols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt is starting to get to you, but Cas helps you wind down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Alex I’ll take ‘tracing secret love letters in your partner’s bare skin’ for 5 million and forever please and thank you.

 

“I’ve seen some things but I’ve never seen anything this bad before,” the coroner says and shakes his head.

If you had a dollar for every time you had heard or even thought something along the lines of ‘this is the worst,’ you wouldn’t want for much. But even though you try to keep an open mind in new hunts, this one is shockingly gruesome. The victim has been beaten and slashed so severely they more closely resemble hamburger than human, and judging from the reports on how old the various injuries appear to be versus time of death…they suffered greatly.

This one’s going to stick with you for a while.

“Do you know what to make of these symbols?”

You’ve been dreading this part, but you square your shoulders and breathe deep. You’ve practiced; you’ve got this. “Somewhat…” you say hesitantly and let your eyes dart around as though someone might hear. “Mr. McCullough, can I trust that this conversation will remain…private?”

He nods eagerly.

You clear your throat. “I’m going to ask you what might seem like random questions, but I promise they are necessary.” You flip open your notebook. It always looks more professional than doing it with your phone. “First: are any organs missing from the body?”

“What? No.” He looks decidedly less eager.

“Any other pieces of the body, like clumps of hair, skin patches, teeth, nails?”

“God,” he blurts out. “You’re really looking for some sick-o Satanist?!”

“The individual who did this was obviously very disturbed,” you say, looking at the mess that was once a person. You look at Cas, but he’s still studying the body and can only offer a short nod in your direction. You flip the notebook shut. “Thank you for your time.”

 

The ride back to the motel is silent, and as soon as you step into Dean and Sam’s room you’re assaulted with the smell of food. Hamburgers. Ugh.

“Hey!” Dean says with his mouth full. He swallows. “How’d it go?”

“You get the pictures I sent?” you ask and shrug off your jacket.

“Oh yeah.” He waves his phone and then takes a look at the photos at the same time he takes a new bite. What _even_.

“Hey,” Sam says as he comes in. “The town ‘witch’ is a bust.”

“Wiccan?” Dean asks.

“Not even that; she’s just really into tarot and crystals.” Sam, at least, takes the phone from Dean’s hand and chucks it back onto the bed before he sits down in front of his food. “Any luck with the body?”

“Nothing aside from the obvious,” you say and glance at Cas, who is watching Dean eat, his face a pure depiction of ‘curious yet disgusted.’ You almost smile. “The symbols were carved into skin, but they were just…beaten to a pulp. Nothing was taken from the body, no missing organs or anything, and even the amount of blood at the crime scene was consistent with what the v– _person_ would have had.”

“All right; we’ll go over everything after we eat,” Dean says and motions at the unopened bag in front of you. Your stomach churns.

“I’m, uh, not that hungry. Help yourself,” you say and make for the door.

“Are you sure?” Dean asks, already reaching for the food.

“Uh huh. Just– really tired. I’m gonna lie down; let me know when you’re done.”

You slip out and escape to the solitude of your own room a few doors down. Once the locks are in place you flop back onto the bed and try to calm down. You don’t even know why you’re so upset; it’s just–

Someone sits next to you and you flail. They catch your hand and…right.

“Sorry Cas,” you say and sit up.

He puts his arm around you. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” You sigh. “I don’t know, Cas. There’s just something about this case that I don’t like. Maybe I’m just in a weird mood; I don’t know.” You lean into him. “How are you?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been quiet. And distracted. …More than usual.”

Cas sighs. “I feel as though there’s something I’m missing.”

“Was it the Enochian?” you ask and sit up. “Was there anything to it?”

“Gibberish,” he said. “Like the other symbols, it was placed haphazardly.”

“Like they picked it out of a book,” you say. It could have been done to throw off hunters. Or it could just be a really, really awful human.

“You’re still uneasy,” Cas says. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You want to reassure him that you just need a little time, you’ll be fine, but when you look right at him he just looks worried with his crinkled forehead and angled eyes and…

“Can you…write something nice in Enochian?”

He looks so happy to be given a way to help you that even you feel a little better too. However, though he comes back with paper and pen, he stops before he writes anything and then examines you. Then– “Actually, take off your shirt. Please.”

You blink. “What?”

He tilts his head and smiles. He must have something up his sleeve; you’re just not sure if you’re in with him yet. “Trust me?”

Well. You shrug and peel off your top. While you’re at it you take off your shoes and socks, change into comfortable pants, and, at Cas’s behest, lie on your stomach with your head in your arms.

Cas lies beside you but props his head with one hand. With the other he starts tracing over your skin, finger lightly caressing your back. “Feather,” he says at the end of the first, his voice low and quiet. He starts again, moving in patterns with gentle pressure and warm hands. “Angel.”

Your eyes start to shut all on their own.

“Human.” He does another. “Beautiful.” He leans in and kisses your back, making you shiver. He continues to ‘write’ but for a while he says nothing. You sink into comfort but just as you’re about to doze off, he rests his hand on your back. And still says nothing. So you ask, “What was that one?”

He chuckles and runs his hand over your skin. “That’s a secret.”

“Aw. Tell me?”

“Maybe another time.” He kisses your cheek. “Rest. I will watch over you.”

You do. Because you know he will.


	6. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie helps you find a pair of glasses that you can dunk in holy fire, and Castiel finds an appreciation for the art of accessorizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A dirty joke/innuendo, fluff!

 

“What about those ones?”

“Ooo, great idea! Here; try these.”

Castiel smiles as you and Charlie laugh. Dean, however, rolls his eyes and says, “Seriously, how long are you two going to be doing this?”

“As long as we’re having fun,” Charlie says and pulls out a dark blue pair.

“They’re just glasses and they’re going to be burned with holy fire anyway.”

“So why not have _cute_ glasses that can see all the…” Charlie waves her hand dismissively. Castiel isn’t sure if that means that she doesn’t know what one is supposed to see, or if she doesn’t care to get into it. Knowing Charlie, it’s the latter. “Besides, just because _you_ picked a flattering pair the first time out doesn’t mean we all get so lucky.”

Dean rolls his eyes but Castiel can see him puff up from the compliment. He’s tempted to roll his own eyes but then Charlie asks, “What do _you_ think, Cas?”

Castiel doesn’t even have to look at you but, having been admonished before, makes the motion. “Beautiful.” Handsome. Lovely. He thinks them all but practices restraint.

“Cas, you can’t say that about _every_ pair,” you say.

“But you look nice in all of them.”

“Then focus on how the glasses look.” You dig around in the box, but Castiel can see the tilt of your lips that betrays the embarrassed smile you’re holding back.

“Where did you even _get_ that many glasses?” Dean asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie says. “Just– just leave the oil here and we’ll take care of it.”

“Oh I am _not_ letting you handle anything even resembling fire; not after last time!”

“Okay, but, _but_ –”

You pick up what Castiel assumes must be a nice pair, from how you admire them.

“–there was a bow and arrow and rags and how am I supposed to be a true Ranger of Ithilien if I don’t practice?”

“Take your bow and arrow to the desert where you can’t set the woods on fire Legolas! And for that matter–”

“Hey.”

Castiel turns his focus from Dean and Charlie’s squabbling, to you. You open the frames and situate the glasses upon your face. They’re…nice. Very nice. Castiel can appreciate how a pair of glasses can accentuate the features of one’s face. However he is drawn to your eyes and takes a moment to admire them. He loves the way they shine; loves the way they squint at an initial burst of harmless light. He loves the way they focus on a difficult text or even how they relax when you let your mind drift. The color is–

“A- _hem_.”

You jolt and look away first. Castiel reluctantly follows suit. It doesn’t help his disgruntlement that Dean and Charlie look so amused.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Charlie asks, grinning.

“Nope. These are good,” you say and hand the glasses to Dean.

He holds them up. “You sure you don’t want to save these for the bedroom?”

You scowl and cross your arms. Castiel sees the shift in your eyes before the hint of a smirk happens. “Actually, Dean, I think the holy fire might be more helpful there; I mean, we haven’t done much with Cas’s wings, and–”

“ _Less_ detail please!”

“You get what you give, asshole.”

Castiel leans over to pick up a discarded pair of glasses.

“Hey, I just meant it would be good to have a spare for when that pair gets covered in– _OW!_ ”

“Do you want _me_ to be the thing that kills you for good, Winchester?! Because I can be!”

The two of you argue and Charlie hands Castiel another pair. Once they’re on, she makes a noise of approval and then adds, “Nice.”

Castiel looks in the mirror and he looks like…a human wearing glasses. However the room is quiet and he faces you to see what you think.

He also loves the way your pupils grow like that.

“Hey!” Sam says, breezing in and making everyone start. “How is…the…” He stops and looks around. “Uh…what did I walk into?”

“Dude, you don’t _want_ to know,” Dean says.

Sam shakes his head. “Then I won’t ask. But, uh, by the way, Eileen is passing through in a couple days. I told her she could stay here.”

“Ooo, I get to meet _Eileen_?” Charlie says in a suggestive tone.

Sam points at her. “You. Stay away.”

“Oh, I know.” She hugs his arm and leads him away. “But I can be an excellent wing-woman; _trust_ me.”

“That tone doesn’t inspire a ton of confidence…”

The three of them leave you and Castiel in private. He asks, “You like them then?”

“Mm hm.” You approach him slowly and, just as carefully, pull them off. Castiel isn’t sure why, but then you’re kissing him. It’s wonderful, but…

He pulls back, unable to contain his curiosity. “I thought you liked them?”

You laugh a little. “Glasses that are optional are like…pieces of clothing. They look nice on, but they’re even more fun to take off. Here.” You put his glasses on your face. “You try.”

He runs his fingers down the sides of the frames, pinches at the ends, and then slowly slides them off. “I see,” he murmurs as your face is bare once more, and he leans in again, this time perfectly prepared and willing to go along. There is just _one_ thing, though. “Do you know what else is nice to remove?”

“Hm?” you ask, nibbling at his neck.

“Actual clothes.”

You tug on his tie, bringing him lower, and you press your mouth to his ear. “That…is an excellent idea.”

It is, but then you both get distracted again right where you are. Castiel makes a mental note to add ‘glasses (eyes)’ to the list, and then promptly forgets everything else.


	7. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gives you hope when you can find none to spare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Self-doubt

 

It’s been a bad week.

And on top of all terrible, bad, and annoyingly mediocre, Gabriel is still away on Heaven business, dealing with a ‘Situation’. He’s good at helping you out of these slumps so now you’re gritting your teeth and trying to muscle your way through it. Like a Winchester.

No wonder they die so much. This is no way to live.

You hug your pillow. Cas is helping Dean with something. Or vice versa. You got a little confused by what exactly they’re up to and you’re not sure you really want to know. In any case, you really don’t want to call Cas. You don’t want him to see you like this– miserable, pathetic. Moping when you should be thinking of a gift for him that properly conveys how much he means to you, how much he’s done for you. Impossible. Why do you even try? He’s so much more than you d–

Your name is spoken in a whisper and you exhale slowly. “Hi Cas.” You sound steady. You count that as a victory. Your eyes are shut, thankfully, so you don’t have to look at him when he lies down in front of you. He rests his hand on yours, which is…nice. Soothing.

“What’s wrong?”

What a question. ‘Nothing’ is a blatant lie and this is Cas. Your Cas. “I’m…” You decide to go with a half-truth. “Wondering if I’m…the best for the job.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Is anyone best for whatever mantle they take up?”

You stay silent.

“One could argue that I was not the most suitable angel to help stop the apocalypse,” he says. “There were others cleverer than I. But I was the one who questioned, who was willing to fight. Are there other humans who might be better suited for hunting than even Sam and Dean? Perhaps.”

He moves closer and cups the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “But they are the ones trained and willing to do what must be done. Your mistakes do not mean you are not fit for the job. Theoretically, there is always a ‘better’ person for what we do. But only in theory. Because even if someone is more resourceful, empathetic, resilient, what have you– if they don’t try, then are they truly the ‘better’ one?”

“They _could_ be,” you can’t help but say.

Cas sighs. “Perhaps. But not everything can be measured by skill…and hypotheticals, in this case, serve no one. Could someone else do it better? Maybe. Do they? No. And regardless of that…” You can hear Cas lick his lips. “I’m starting to believe that what we do matters, even if it only matters to us. Because we matter just as much as anyone else.”

Your heart isn’t beating so fast. The cadence of his voice, the low tone, is soothing. You feel him shift, and he moves his lips to grace the crown of your head. “And though you did not ask me directly,” he murmurs. “You are the best for me because you know and love me. I am the best for you because I know and love you. It is okay to falter, but never doubt that everything you are is enough.”

You’re gripping his shirt so tight your hands ache. “Do you…want to take the rest of the day off?”

“That sounds perfect,” Cas says, and the two of you twine together so thoroughly no one could possibly untangle you. Just the way it should be.


	8. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Cas try to enjoy yourselves at a farmer’s market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since I’ve been to a farmer’s market, but this is generally how they go in my area. Rows of temporary booths set up where people sell food, produce, and flowers. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid. Also I researched way too much about bees in autumn/winter for what little bit made it into this bit.

 

“I think we lost Dean.”

“Good,” you say and take a deep breath. You don’t know what bet Dean lost to have to do Sam’s shopping for him and you don’t care. It’s a farmer’s market, not a circle of hell, but you wouldn’t know that from how he’s been bitching.

Cas puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “I’m fine,” you say and give him a quick smile. “Dean can do his own shopping. Want to look around?”

He nods and you slip your hand into his. It’s cool but not cold and a little busy as everyone filters around for their apples and pumpkins and whatnot. You don’t have a goal– Dean’s the one who lost the bet, not you– so you’re just going to enjoy yourself. Damn it.

“Oh,” Cas says and you follow his eyes to see a stand that’s half canned jams and jellies, and half jars of honey.

“Let me guess: the honey?” you ask and hold back laughter.

“Do you think they have bees?” Cas asks.

You’re pretty sure that one woman shrieking a couple stands over would have sounded like an alarm if a bee was within a mile of her, but you pull Cas by his hand and say, “There’s only one way to find out.”

You approach aside a few other people purchasing things and take a look around the stall. The products look good and are packaged nicely. Cas seems a bit put off by the lack of bees but he separates from you to get a better look around.

“Hello.”

You look up and blink when you realize no one else is there. Cas is completely out of sight (not wholly a surprise) and the other customers have gone, leaving you with a _very_ chipper man who looks like he’s going full lumberjack. Thank goodness you went for the other color flannel shirt, otherwise you’d have matched. “Um, hi.”

“Can I help you?” he asks. He’s so friendly it almost sounds like he very much _wants_ to.

“No, I’m fine, thanks; just looking.” The only downside in your relationship is that Cas is just as awkward about small talk with strangers as you are, when he isn’t getting stony for whatever reason and making things _more_ awkward. It’s probably a good thing he isn’t here for this.

The man starts chattering about the family business he runs with his brother making various canned items. You nod politely where you need to and keep an eye out for Cas. You’re tempted to pray but that seems a touch ridiculous, even if the guy is _very_ friendly…

“This is actually the last batch of honey for the year,” the man says. “The bees are gonna start huddling up for the winter pretty soon.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” you say and grab a jar of honey and, after a moment, a jar of grape jelly. Cas can find you elsewhere. “Just these two, please.”

He nods easily and you trade cash and change. “My name’s Oliver.”

You’re partly turned away but stop. “Uh, nice to meet you, Oliver.”

“What’s your name?”

You hesitate but give it to him. No customers come to save you and he leans on the table and repeats your name. “That’s a good name.”

“Thanks.” Is it time to pray now? It might be time to pray soon.

“You picked the best jars.” He winks. “Is it because you’re sweet too?”

You freeze. Really? _Really_?

Cas’s jacket wooshes behind you as he breezes back with timing that _could_ have been better but you’re not going to complain now. Except he’s looking at Oliver like he might smite him and the worst thing the guy did was use a shitty line as a come-on. You’ve had worse.

“You, uh, have fun?” you ask, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yes. Did you find what you need?”

You shift your bag. “Yeah. Yeah. Um, nice meeting you, Oliver.”

“Whatever,” the guy says with a nasty look and turns away and, okay, dick, but Cas isn’t exactly being nice about the whole thing either.

“Cas,” you say sternly and he does lighten up. A little. You sigh, pry his fingers out of your hip so his hand rests easily, and slip your own arm behind him as you both walk away. “But thanks Cas; that got awkward pretty fast.”

“Hm.”

“Cas.”

He mumbles an apology, kisses you, and slips away. You roll your eyes but he didn’t sound mad, just distracted, so you let him go. Sometimes he resembles the absent-minded bees he loves so much, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re checking out some apples from a distance when someone comes to stand behind you.

“Here.”

You turn and your nose hits a small handful of flowers Cas is holding up. They’re little purple daisy-like things and you can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

“They’re called asters,” Cas says. “The woman at the booth said they’re mainly filler but…I thought you might like them.”

“I do,” you say and go to kiss his cheek. You almost stop when you catch Oliver the Honey-Booth Guy staring at the two of you, but you just let out a little sigh and let your lips connect. “Cas…”

“He has still been staring at you. I will get the message across in as many ways as I can manage,” he says, remorseless. You roll your eyes.

Before you can get a word out a bee floats in and lands in the middle of one of the flowers. You stare at it for a moment, then share a look with Cas. “I guess the bees just didn’t wanna hang out with Mr. Honey.”

“They have excellent taste,” he says. He kisses your cheek. “As do you.”

You laugh, but you can’t deny it’s true.


	9. Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is worried about the cold you’ve caught, but it turns into a good excuse to snuggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I have no consistent headcanon for “Supernatural” angel wings and had to go back to the other story to see how I described Cas’s wings for this story (in prompts 10: Poison and 13: Mirror). While I love wing!kink as much as the next person, this is what stuck in my head and seemed appropriate. In this story, at least.

 

There’s a chill in the air.

“A _choo_!”

…And you can’t claim to be thrilled about it. Especially when a heavy blanket gets tossed over your head.

“Gah! Cas!” You yank it off and glare at your unrepentant angel. “I have the smallest cold anyone has ever had in the history of tiny colds.”

He tucks the blanket around you. “You are ill. The last time you were ill like this–”

“–Was because of a manticore. I would know if I had been poisoned by a manticore. If it makes you feel better, I would _tell_ you if I had been poisoned by a manticore. This? Is a cold. A cold that I would work through if I had to.” You stifle a cough. “You really need to chill out, Cas.”

He frowns. “That’s not funny.” But he sits back and sighs, and looks over you. “You look sufficiently warm.”

“Good,” you say and somehow manage not to ask if it was the sweat that gave it away. You shift a little bit to loosen the tightly tucked blankets. “Cas, are you all right?”

“I am fine; it’s _you_ I worry about.”

“I know you do, but you don’t need to. At least, most of the time,” you say.

He stares at you like he can’t believe what’s coming out of your mouth. “You hunt creatures that feed off of humans and or their misery. I _do_ need to worry.”

“There’s no monster in this though,” you say, but you doubt it’ll get through. So you change the subject. “Hey Cas…speaking of the manticore; do you remember what really helped when I was sick then?”

He perks up at the mention. Probably not because of the manticore. “Would you like to…”

“If it’ll get me out of all these blankets then _yes_.”

Cas doesn’t let you out of all the blankets, but he does stop at five, which is at least somewhat more bearable. Especially when he cuddles up next to you. You turn to get one more sip of water before you try to sleep off this little bout of misery, but as you drink you see the pair of holy-fire-burned glasses on your bedside table. You were joking when you said that to Dean, but…

Cas says your name. “Are you all right?”

“Mm hm.” You put the cup down and look over him. He won't get mad if you just _ask_. Right? “I was just wondering…would it be okay if…”

He waits patiently. You struggle to get it out. And struggle. And–

“CanIputontheglasseswoulditbeokayifIsawyourwings?”

Well. That’s one way to do it.

“If you want,” he says. “They’re not what humans think they are.”

“I know. You’ve told me,” you say and quickly put the glasses on. You take a moment to calm down before you turn and look.

They’re somehow exactly like you normally imagine when you try to remember how they appeared– back when you were recovering from the manticore poison, and then what they looked like in the witch’s mirror. They’re pitch black, unnaturally dark in color but with bursts of light that resemble stars, and some lines of light that curve at the ends and make you think of feathers. They’re like a clear night sky and they cut through the objects in the room as they are too large to fit; tall over Cas’s head but folded in tightly.

“Does it hurt? To keep them tucked in?” you ask and reach out. You can’t feel anything but looking at it, you half expect your hands to come out like they’ve been dipped in ink. But they don’t, no matter how you move through the extensions of Cas himself.

“No,” he says. “Objects are not a problem. They are, technically, on another plane. Can you even feel them?”

“No,” you say, but you’re not disappointed. They’re beautiful. “Sorry; this is probably weird for you then.”

“It’s not. Not how you’re thinking, at least, and I don’t mind. I can feel you.”

“You can?” You bring your hand back and settle down. You are a little tired after all. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” he says and smiles. It’s the last thing you see before you close your eyes. “You feel warm.”

“Oh. That’s good,” you say, and drift off under a cover like stars.


	10. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a spell, you forget some things. Luckily though, the most important stuff stays with you.

 

Someone keeps saying your name. It’s annoying and you intend to ask them to stop– just as soon as you can open your mouth and be certain you won't vomit.

When the nausea passes, you open your eyes and oh, that’s lovely. “Blue…”

“Yes,” the man says and sighs. Castiel. Cas. You know him? You think so. He smiles warmly at you, so warmly that he must know you. “My eyes are very blue. Now…”

The pain melts away and he keeps talking, but you’re not paying much attention. His eyes are so bright and beautiful. He’s beautiful. He’s–

He says your name suddenly. He frowns. “Do you know who I am?”

“Cas,” you say. “I know you. I just…don’t know how.” His eyes crinkle down, and drag the blue with them. “Oh, no! Don’t be sad; I know you, I know– you make me feel…” You mimic an explosion out of your chest, using your hands and a slight noise. You don’t know how else to explain the butterflies-hearts-and-warm-happy-fire feeling he inspires in you.

“If only they’d gotten hit with that spell this time last year; would’ve saved everyone a big headache,” someone mutters, but it feels okay.

“Dean!” someone else snaps. Again, it’s comforting in its sense of normalcy.

You turn to face the two men. “Sam! Dean!” You can’t seem to stop swaying. You’re not dizzy, you just can’t seem to sit still and steady.

“Hey Killer.” Dean smiles wide. That doesn’t feel so normal, but you like it. “You remember us?”

“Sort of? You– I like you, but not like–” You mime Cas’s explosion. “More like–” You hug yourself tight. It feels good, so you stay like that for a little bit.

Dean snickers and Sam shakes his head. You’re drawn to the woman next to Sam. She’s…she’s…

“Eileen?” you ask. She smiles patiently and nods. “I don’t know you,” you say slowly. “But I like you?” This is very confusing.

Something about the way you say that makes Dean burst out laughing. Sam even stifles laughter, and Eileen rolls her eyes. At them, you hope. “You haven’t known Eileen for long,” Sam explains, clearing his throat. “Maybe a few months, if that. You’ve known me, Dean, and Cas for years.”

“Oh!” Simple. You like that.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cas; as far as spells go this is practically harmless.”

You turn halfway to see Cas, and his pretty blue eyes are scrunched. His distress makes your stomach hurt. “How can you call this _harmless_ –”

You scoot over and wrap your arms around him. He’s receptive, thankfully, and you bury your face in his shoulder.

“Relax, Cas; obviously they haven’t forgotten the most important stuff,” Dean says, pats Cas’s other shoulder, and stands. “Sammy, you and Eileen go over the spellbook. I’ll check around the house for anything that might help.”

“And what should I do?”

“You can–”

“Cas can stay with me!” you suggest excitedly. Very excitedly. “Oops. That was loud.”

“It’s all right.” Dean claps your shoulder and stands. “Keep an eye on Cas. And _no funny business_.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” you grumble and snuggle back into Cas.

“See Cas? They’re still perfectly normal.”

“ _Go_.”

Dean does, laughing on his way. Cas huffs, but he holds you and that’s good. Good. _Very_ good. “Don’t worry,” he says and rubs his hand over your back, like you’re not already full of assurance.

“I won’t,” you say. His blue is clear, like a warm ocean, and you float in it.


	11. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some parts to mortality that Castiel doesn’t like at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentioned blood and gore, very short
> 
> A/N: Oh no. A plot. Maybe. I hesitate to say, because I never know how these things are going to end up. For example, I thought Crowley was going to play a major part in last year’s but he was only in one chapter and then I couldn’t fit him in again¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ We’ll see how it goes!

 

Castiel hates blood.

Before becoming human he’d never thought much about it. It was a facet of humanity no more than a knee, a strand of hair, a vertebra. When he was human he realized how important it was, how it _hurt_ to lose blood. How much worse it was when it didn’t hurt.

How unfortunate he is to find himself in an occupation dealing with so much blood.

“Are you doing okay, Cas?” Dean asks, coming to stand next to him.

“I am fine,” Castiel says, though he doesn’t look away from the body. Dean doesn’t say anything else; he simply stands there until Castiel looks at him. It’s not like Dean to be so quiet and patient.

Dean clears his throat and hands over a manila folder. “Now… _don’t_ freak out.”

Castiel squints at him and opens the folder.

And nearly drops it.

“I told you not to freak out!”

Castiel doesn’t say anything to that. He’s holding a picture of the victim from when they still had a face.

They look like _you_.

“They say everyone has a doppelganger in the world,” Dean says and carefully extracts the folder from Castiel’s hands. “Not literally, thank– well, whoever. That would be fucking awful; one shapeshifter at a time is hard enough to deal with–”

“ _Dean_ –”

“Cas.” Dean stares at him until Cas relaxes his stance. Dean holds up the folder. “This is one person out of three.”

“Who looks like an established hunter, and who is carved with angel and other symbols–”

“–That could have been made by some nutjob who happened to get their hands on the right kind of book,” Dean says. “I’m not saying we’re not going to look into this. You know how I feel about coincidences. I’m just saying don’t do anything _stupid_.”

Castiel frowns but, again, says nothing. He can’t look above the person’s mangled neck anymore; all he has are nightmare visions of you. He and Dean finish up, leaving no trace that anyone was ever there, and Castiel flies Dean back to the room.

“God I hate that,” Dean groans and goes to grab a drink.

“How’d it go?” you ask and glance up from your reading.

Castiel can only think of the before and after of the victim and his grace burns at the thought. He slides onto the bed and wraps his arms tightly around you.

“Oof. Hi Cas.” You kiss him. He doesn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“Here.” Castiel hears Dean hand you the folder.

It takes a few seconds but you let out a soft, “Oooohhhh,” and toss the folder aside before you return Castiel’s embrace. “It’s okay Cas; I’m here and I’m fine. And you know I’m tough.”

He does. And he also knows he won't ever let anything like that happen to you– not ever again. No matter what.


	12. Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Cas have a date. Gabriel didn’t get the memo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I would never ever hurt a goose, but I also wouldn’t be sad if I never encountered one in real life ever again. Flying? Sure! Fly on you funky little devil bastard spawn. On the ground in a park? No thank you. Anyway. Apologies to the people trying to enjoy my reader inserts who like/are ambivalent to geese; this is one of the few indulgences I’m allowing myself.

 

Having a picnic by a pond had seemed like a nice idea. You’d just forgotten one thing.

“Geese are the devil’s work,” you say and give your best stink-eye to the bastard now standing a yard away. He looks at you, unaffected, before he saunters off to go terrorize some other couple. Or eat a small child. Bastard.

“My brother created nothing other than demons,” Cas says and squeezes your hand. “But if he had, I imagine he would have made…geese.”

“Stop laughing at me,” you grumble and try to salvage some chips from the crumpled bag you just went to war over.

“I’m not.”

“Uh huh. So what’s that smile f–”

“Hey lovebirds!”

Your chips are gone from your hands and Gabriel lounges along the edge of your blanket, munching away like he was invited, he just showed up late. With the pond in the background, he is framed unfairly nicely.

“Long time no see,” you say.

“Oh I know, trust me.” Gabriel leans his head back and groans. He crumples the bag and it vanishes from existence. “Stupid heaven business; I _hate_ adulting.”

“How old are you again?”

“Hey, hey, I’m young at heart.” Gabriel pouts and holds his chest, then waves you off. “Not the point, and it’s okay, I know you mean you missed me terribly and I’ve missed you too. Once this is over I’m taking everyone to the Bahamas, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Hey, Cas-Cas, can I–”

“No.”

Both Gabriel and Cas look at you. You stare right back but keep your hand tight on Cas’s arm. He could slip out, but he tends to respect your silent signal to stay. You focus on Gabriel. “You think I don’t notice you stealing Cas away at odd times? Something is wrong.”

Gabriel’s smile is frozen but you hear him say, “Damn hunters…”

‘Damn hunters’ is right. You don’t let up. “What’s going on.”

Gabriel sits up and loses the lax attitude. “Look, it’s–”

An upcoming platitude or excuse, and your glare makes him stop and reconsider. He sighs. “We have a…situation,” he admits and glances around. “Since you don’t have a lot of angel buddies, I’ll tell you.” He looks at you, uncharacteristically grave. “Angels are turning up dead. And not just dead, but–”

“Drained of their grace,” Cas says. You turn your head, but he refuses to look at you.

“Drained…like–” _Oh_. You whip your head between the two of them. “They don’t think _Cas_ –”

“No, no; they don’t think anything at all,” Gabriel says and waves his hand up and down. “Me and a few of mine– including Cas– are the only ones that know. The angels affected so far, they were the ones that wanted to stay on earth. Their grace wasn’t much, just enough to keep them going as humans.”

“Do you want us to look into this?” you ask.

“No. At least, not for now,” Gabriel says. “So don’t tell Sam and Dean pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty please?”

You frown. “Okay. For _now_.”

“Great!” Gabriel points finger-guns at you. “Can I steal your boyfriend now?”

You roll your eyes over to Cas, who smiles knowingly and leans in to kiss you. “Be safe,” you say as he stands.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” Gabriel says and yanks Cas down to give him a noogie. “I’d never be able to come back to earth if I did.”

“It’s cute that you think I’d wait for you to come to me.” But you stand and go to hug him. “You be safe too.”

“Always!” he says cheerfully, like he isn’t just as goddamn reckless as anyone else you’ve ever known, and hugs back. “I know I wrecked your date but don’t worry; I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

“Uh, that– thanks, but that isn’t necce–”

“I insist! Don’t you worry!” Gabriel says, and then he and Cas are gone.

You sigh. Then turn your head to see the feathered hellspawn has returned. He flutters his wings and honks angrily. “You,” you say, “Are now the least of my concerns.” Angels turning up dead and drained. Cas helping with that case. You, unable to provide backup.

Gabriel owing you one.

Yeah. You miss those good old minutes when that damn goose was your worst enemy.

“ _OW_ ; you fucking _son of a_ –!”

Or not.


	13. Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is less helpful than he thinks and more helpful than you give him credit for. Case in point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mention of lingerie, allusion to future sexy times
> 
> A/N: This comes up in like, one sentence, but I do want to say I think it’s a shame that lace things tend to either be ‘for girls’ or a kink thing. Not that the kink thing is wrong, but I’m just going to place my stance as ‘lace/pretty underthings should be for all genders whenever they want,’ just fyi. And as far as the other innuendo goes, I still think it’s pretty PG-13. I did want to go more purely innocent with this (I was going to use lace as more of a theme as it’s pretty and delicate-looking but strong and woo, relationship commentary and whatnot) but I guess I, like Gabriel, just can’t help myself ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

You are going to kill Gabriel.

It’s been great, it’s been fun, but you hope he got to do everything he wanted to because the next time you see him you are going to _fry his not-sorry trickster-archangel ass_.

You let the box flap fall shut again and search the ceiling for an absent god. Not that he’d be much help, but it’d be nice to give the being responsible for Gabriel a good shake by the throat every now and then. Especially now.

An innocuous-looking box sitting outside your room is never a good thing. It became less of a good thing when you found a note from Gabriel stating _‘I’m sorry for interrupting your date but there’s plenty in here to get that spark back’_ and then the most obnoxious wink-y face you’ve ever seen.

You drop the lace-and-silk _things_ back in the box and groan into your hands. Of course there’s a wide variety of colors. Why would Gabriel do any less.

Something inside, shining in the light, catches your eye. You wince as you pull out the cellophane wrapping, expecting the worst, but nothing about the packaging jumps out as obscene. Inside are thin strands of candy. ‘Licorice Lace’ says the sticker on the outside. You pull out another package, this time with chocolate lace.

Cute.

You dig further and find a bunch of shoelaces. You roll your eyes at his dedication to the theme, but at least now you have something with which you can satisfy your need to strangle Gabriel. Thanks, Gabriel.

There’s one last thing. It’s a long strip of silk adorned on both edges with an intricately-patterned lace. You’re not sure what it’s for– it’s too long to be a bracelet and the silk alone is quite wide, not even counting the lace on either side.

You can’t stop running your fingers over it, though; it’s so _soft_. Yes, the silk, but even the lace feels nice. You’re used to lace feeling coarse, even rough; old dusty curtains and cheap tablecloths and poorly-cared-for clothes and costumes. But this–

_Knock knock._

Cas says your name and you…

…panic.

You toss the lace whatever-it-is at the box and do the same with the rest of the stuff before you fold over all sides of the top and kick the whole thing under your bed. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and then go to answer the door. “H-hi Cas.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why?” you ask and lean casually against the door.

“You sound a little breathless,” he says and leans in to kiss you.

You could make a joke about how he takes your breath away, but you’re not sure he’d get the reference without you explaining most of it. And there are much better ways to spend your time. On that note– you pull him over to the bed and he follows easily.

Until he doesn’t.

“What’s this?” he asks and picks something up.

It’s the long strand of silk and lace.

Of course.

…Well, it could have been worse.

“I don’t know,” you admit and sit down. “Just a part of Gabriel being obnoxious again, I think.”

“Hm,” he says, obviously not really listening. He sits next to you but he’s focused on the fabric. His hands feel over the soft material and you wait patiently as he takes in the sensation. His eyes are on the object so you follow his line of sight. However your eyes go to his hands. Long fingers smooth over the decorative lace and stroke the silk with a light touch. His strong hands tug and pull, muscles and veins flexing under the skin with every motion. Then he holds it up to his face and–

“ _Oh_.”

You are going to _kill_ Gabriel.

“Oh?” Cas repeats and lowers the fabric.

You clear your throat and swallow, preparing yourself but still not quite prepared enough when you bring his hands up…and help him position the blindfold into place. “Oh,” Cas says in understanding. The dark lace fans out into his forehead and rests easily on his cheekbones. It looks…nice.

He pulls it back and considers it a moment before he holds it up to _your_ face. You freeze and keep your mind from wandering too far down that path.

“Interesting,” Cas says, ever unhelpful in keeping your mind clean. “I suppose the main question is…which one of us should try it first.”

Your mouth drops open.

_Oh_.

Apparently you’ll have to thank Gabriel after all. But. Later.

So much later.


	14. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel hates to see you cry, no matter the cause.

 

Castiel enters your darkened room and the first thing he notes is the sound of sniffling. He frowns– you had assured him you were over that cold– but then he hears a stifled hiccup and trembling inhale.

Crying. You’re crying.

Castiel rushes to the bed and yanks back the cover, fearing some grisly injury, only to find you, whole and unhurt, with your tablet. However tears are streaming down your face.

“Oh.” You tap the screen to stop a video and you wipe your face. “Hi Cas.”

“What happened?” he asks.

You frown as if perplexed by the question. “Nothing. Why?”

Why. Castiel stares at you. He’s practically shaking from the strain of not going after whatever, whoever, did this, and you, with wet cheeks and red eyes and a pile (a pile!) of tissues are asking him _why_.

Castiel just wants to know who to smite. Is that so difficult?

“You’re crying,” he says, measured and trying to stay calm for the inevitable protest of ‘I’m fine!’ when you are _clearly_ not. “What happened? Was it Dean? Gabriel? Sam? Was it some other human? What–”

“Oh, Cas, it’s okay,” you say and hold his arms. “I was watching a movie.”

Castiel expected the first, but is baffled by the addition of the second. He was so prepared to argue that he actually wonders, for a moment, what a movie has to do with anything before the truth of it hits him. “You’re crying because of a movie?”

“It’s a sad movie,” you say as if in defense.

“That much is clear,” he murmurs and wipes away a tear. “ _Why_ are you crying at a sad movie?”

“I do have emotions, you know,” you say, sounding amused.

“No, I only meant– if the movie is making you cry, why are you still watching it?” Castiel says and glances at the screen. He knows you’re dedicated to seeing things through, but continuing something that is actively causing you misery is…ridiculous.

“It’s a good movie, and I…” You take a deep breath and rub one of your eyes. “I needed a good cry.”

“You needed to cry?” Castiel repeats, somehow understanding even _less_.

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s good to just let it all out,” you say. But when you study his face you appear contrite. “Oh, Cas, it’s okay. Come here.”

He leans in and you kiss, but he can taste the salt of your tears, the physical manifestation of pain and sorrow, and he aches. This isn’t okay; how can this be okay?

“Sit,” you say and pull him down. “Crying isn’t always a bad thing. It can be for just about any reason, any emotion even. Sadness, yeah, but also happiness. You can laugh so hard you cry.”

Castiel only feels slightly assuaged. “But you said it was for sadness.”

“Right now, yeah, but it’s only a movie; I’m just using it to…” You look thoughtful, so Castiel waits. “Have you ever _felt_ so strongly that it’s like it’s…building up; like if it keeps going you’re going to burst?”

Angels are entirely capable of feeling emotions, they’re just trained to conceal them better and, as a consequence, understand them less. But Castiel is familiar with those feelings, yes. The rage he felt at his brothers and sisters for lying, for working to help hasten the apocalypse. The consuming despair when he realized his father was going to let it happen. The joy he felt when Sam and Dean and you accepted him, and gave him a place to belong.

Even just moments ago, when he felt a burning need to destroy whatever had upset you. That feeling itself was unpleasant, but it was linked to something warm, something he knows well by now. The longer he looks at you, the more he understands what you mean. This, though, is something he wants to keep; this is a feeling he wouldn’t mind being consumed by.

“I suppose so,” he says.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” you say and kiss him again. “I’ve just got ten minutes left.”

His being seizes. “May I– can I stay?”

“Are you sure, Cas?” you ask, taking up your tablet. “It doesn’t get much better. I’m going to cry a lot more.”

“I don’t _like_ it, but if this is something you need…” He shrugs one shoulder. “I would feel worse, I think, if I left you alone. So– may I stay?”

“I’ll do you one better.” You point at the center of the bed. “Get comfy.”

He does, and you settle in between his legs and rest the back of your head against his chest. You bring up the screen and ask, “Is this all right?”

He puts his arms around your stomach and kisses your head. “Perfect.”

You relax against him and Castiel remains to dry your tears, no matter their reason for being.


	15. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel would do anything to keep you safe. Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Very vague mention of violence
> 
> A/N: I love one (1) blue-eyed idiot angel.

 

You’ve been hit.

Castiel is trying his best to remain calm but the thought itself is infuriating. He brings his gun up and shoots and shoots and keeps shooting–

“Geeze, Cas, I think we got the message!”

He stops and blinks. Charlie crosses her arms and frowns at him. “It’s a game, Cas; we’re _supposed_ to shoot at you guys.”

“Sorry Cas,” you say as Eileen helps you up. You dust off your vest. “I was trying to get into the spirit of the game.”

“That is not a good spirit to get into,” he grumbles but he takes your arm. He politely ignores Charlie trying to stifle her laughter. If that can be called ‘trying’. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Cas.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “The lasers are for the vest. Nobody’s actually getting hurt.”

Charlie, laughing into her hands, jolts suddenly when her vest lights up and she swears, and Eileen does the same.

“No, but some of you are getting murdered!” Dean crows and immediately starts running when the two women take off after him.

Castiel looks at the crushed laser tag gun in his hand and wonders if this was a good idea.

“Cas?”

He lifts his head and you hold his face in your hands. “Are _you_ okay?” you ask.

He isn’t sure how to answer that.

 

_Castiel stood in front of two bodies and tightened his hand into a fist._

_The less said about their mutilated bodies the better, but their heads and faces were virtually untouched and stared out in sightless horror. Turned up to the sky, Castiel could easily see how one resembled him, and the other resembled…_

_You._

_This was no longer random, but targeted. And the fact that he had found this so soon after investigating the most recent former-angel murder potentially linked them in a way that terrified him. Grace was being drained and Enochian was being carved onto bodies. It was possible this wasn’t some maniac human._

_It could very well be an angel._

_If it was just him in danger it wouldn’t matter so much but now, after yet another human that resembled you, Castiel felt himself fill with dread. If he told Gabriel his suspicions, Gabriel would tell you. If he told Dean, Dean would tell you. You would want to investigate this yourself; you would be in danger. You–_

 

Sam comes out of nowhere and Castiel has only barely enough time to drop the mangled plastic, pull you into his arms, and push you up against the wall before his vest shines bright. You pull up your gun and fire but curse.

“Aw Cas, you should have ducked behind the wall,” you say and pull him behind some nearby cover. “I ruined your record.”

 

_Castiel could use the help. But he wouldn’t– couldn’t– chance you. Between the werewolf from the year before and that mermaid from some months back, you had almost given too much already. It put him at a disadvantage, but he needed more time on his own to evaluate and find the threats (or threat). Then he could go to Gabriel, or Dean, and ask for help. Until then…_

_He gave those poor people a proper send off, then burned the bodies._

 

“It’s worth it,” Castiel says and brings the gun back up, whole and working. “Shall we save Dean?”

“After we get Sam.” You wink at him. “No more self-sacrificing!”

Castiel smiles after you as you run ahead. And promises nothing.


	16. Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life isn’t perfect, and the good doesn’t excuse the bad, but you can’t find it in yourself to regret how it’s turned out so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I love Claire so much that’s all bye

 

Someone is behind you, and you sigh. “Claire.”

When you turn to face her, she smirks. “Trick or treat?”

You look her up and down. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“A hunter,” she says.

“No costume, no treat.”

She rolls her eyes. “How did you even know I was coming? Ugh.” She flops back onto the couch. Her knees are bent over the arm so her legs dangle, but she manages a pretty stern look at Cas despite how lax her body is. “You warned them.”

You roll _your_ eyes. “Claire, I wouldn’t still be alive to _be_ hunting if I made it that easy to sneak up on me.”

She scowls at you. “‘Easy,’ huh?”

You grin at her. “Try harder.”

She snorts but her mouth curves into a smile. Cas shakes his head but he has a hint of a smile, himself. “Behave, you two.”

“You’re not my dad,” she says, without heat. She and Cas have had their issues, but they’ve also had them out. A statement like that six months ago would have been taken very differently, but now Cas just rolls his eyes and goes back to his book.

“I thought you were going to be hiding,” you say and smooth out your clothes.

“Boring. Also, Cas can cover for me,” she says.

“Cas isn’t going to be there on every hunt with you. Isn’t the point of this to have you practice in a semi-safe environment?” you say.

She gives you a look that almost makes you want to shrink down. “The _point_ of this is that Jody is super fucking paranoid and as soon as she found out about _my_ hunt she stuck training wheels on it.”

You do wince a bit, because she’s not wrong– you and Cas are the closest literal incarnation of training wheels there has ever been. “You have no idea what I would have done for training wheels on my first hunt.”

“What was your first hunt?” she asks and sits up.

You’d rather knock yourself unconscious than remember that, but you don’t know how to say that politely. She’s just curious, it’s natural, but now your mind is going down a path you’d really rather it not.

Cas says your name and you snap yourself out of it. His hands are on your shoulders, grounding you to now, and you take a deep breath. Bright blue eyes look at you in concern and you lean in to kiss his worry lines away. “I’m all right Cas.”

On cue, there’s a knock on the door and you slide into the person you need to be tonight. “Right. Claire?”

“I’m going,” she says, already starting for her hiding place. “Just remember–”

“We’re just bait, yeah, we know,” you say. “Trust me; I can’t wait to see you in action.”

She flashes you a grin and then slinks off as you and Cas, pretending to be the nice new couple in the neighborhood, answer the door for your ‘unexpected’ solicitous werewolf guests.

 

You had hoped to save Jody’s friend’s house from too much bloodshed, but that’s hard to do when the monsters you’re hunting come with claws and are surprisingly adept with dodging gunfire. Still, Claire performed admirably for a single young hunter facing down _two_ experienced werewolves. Cas and you hadn’t intervened at all; all he did was cover you when the monsters revealed themselves, and you both sat back while Claire took care of the heavy lifting.

However the looks on their faces when they realized this was all an elaborate set-up and they were the subjects for a hunter training session? Pretty hilarious. Almost as hilarious as Claire’s face when you told her she was about to learn the most important lesson about hunter training: clean up.

Still, she’s a good sport about it and the room looks even nicer than it did when you arrived. “Why isn’t Cas helping?” she grumps and puts a new cover over the couch.

“Because he’s a cheater,” you say and help her tuck it in. “And the point of this is to give you all the tools you need to go out and do your own thing.”

“I guess,” she says petulantly, but lapses into quiet. Then she clears her throat. “I’m sorry about…I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad.”

“Uh…oh.” You stand up and stretch, and survey the room. “It’s okay. Hunting is…there’s always a lot of bad to wade through.” As you skim the room you catch a glimpse of Cas in the kitchen, scowling at his phone. You’re not sure if he’s texting with Dean or trying yet again to understand the appeal of Candy Crush. You smile. “Like anything though…there tends to be some good too.”

She scoffs. “Whatever,” and you barely catch the end of an eyeroll. It’s not mean-spirited though, just very…Claire.

All of a sudden you are very, very aware of who you were just looking at, and how, and in front of who. “Claire, is it…” You’ve never asked this before but, shit, too late to back down now. “Is this…too weird?”

She looks at you, again, like you’re a little slow. “No,” she says, smiling like she finds your uncertainty stupid yet charming. She plops back onto the couch. “Maybe it was, or would have been, but Cas is– he’s not my dad. When I look at him, I don’t even see my dad anymore.” She waves her hand. “Maybe that’s disassociating or unhealthy or whatever, but I doubt there’s expert opinion on how to handle this shit. I’ve got Jody, and Donna, and even Alex; and Cas and I are cool now. Sure it’s not ideal but…it is what it is.”

You stand uncertainly, torn between an urge to hug her and knowing that she probably wouldn’t appreciate it. You clear your throat and she stares at you, visibly tensing for whatever you’re about to say. You go ahead anyways. “…We’re gonna have to smooth that out now.”

She blinks and looks down at the couch, then curses and flings a throw pillow at your face.

You assume you’re good.

 

Later, when you’ve said your goodbyes and burned all the evidence, you’re driving for home when Cas slides his hand over yours.

“You okay?” you ask and pull up his hand to kiss.

“I was going to ask you,” he says. He doesn’t bring up why, and you’re thankful for it. You’re thankful for a lot of things.

“I’m fine. There’s no point in regret.” Not that that stops you, but it’s good to remind yourself every now and then. Now being the moment where you’re driving into the sun and the visor is as low as you can get it, but the road is empty and Cas is slouched comfortably next to you, squinting against the dying sunlight and lacing his fingers in yours.

You squeeze his hand, and put your attention back on the road. With the bad comes the good, and you wouldn’t trade this for anything.


	17. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don’t know what Cas is up to, but you intend to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: I would say ‘gleeful abandonment of anything resembling canon or even personal headcanon that may contradict this’ but that’s honestly just my general state of being
> 
> A/N: You ever think ‘I’ll never figure this out’ and then all of a sudden you go ‘!!!?!!???!!!!’? I do that a lot with these prompts. Also, now is probably a good time to remind you I treat canon lore the same way I treat canon anything. ‘Does this work for me in this story? No? [Shovels it into the fire.]’

 

Cas is acting shifty.

He’s hiding it pretty well, but you can tell. He’s definitely up to something. Even though you know about the situation in heaven, he’s started to skirt you the same way he skirts Sam and Dean. Cas doesn’t normally hide things, is _too_ honest sometimes, so this is…irritating.

And you’re not jumping to conclusions. Every good investigation begins with gathering information and you’ve done as much of that as you can with limited opportunity and excuse; you know this isn’t the angel thing because he’s fairly open about that, while he’s cagey with whatever this other thing is. On a hunt you’d start questioning too, but Cas is incredibly smart. Much smarter than he is sneaky, thankfully, and since you haven’t gotten caught _yet_ , you’ve decided to go for it.

“I’ll be right back,” Cas says, for the third time today. You glance at a clock that’s only _just_ about to hit noon.

“Okay,” you say as easily as you’ve said before. When he stands, though, you add: “Where are you going?”

He flinches. It’s probably something no one else would notice, probably something even you might miss normally, but you normally wouldn’t be looking for it. Still, you affect innocent curiosity pretty well, you think. Because you _are_ just curious.

“I’ll be with Gabriel,” he says, so smoothly that you believe he isn’t lying. That doesn’t mean anything. Gabriel could be in on it– whatever ‘it’ is– _and_ Cas didn’t really answer the question.

That’s okay. “Be safe,” you say and he pauses to give you a kiss.

“I will,” he promises and is gone in an instant.

You give it a minute or two, just in case he decides to pop back in for whatever reason. He doesn’t, though, so you get up and go to the cushion he had been leaning against. You manage to scrape together _just_ enough hairs for the spell, and once you have them in a tight fist you scurry off to your room where you have the other components, the book, and the purposefully almost-finished angel wards.

You probably shouldn’t be doing this. Probably. But Cas has been alternating between being over-protective and completely absent, and you’re starting to get worried. You sprinkle the hair in the bowl and light the match. If he’s in heaven there’s not much you can do, but…

You say the incantation, drop the match, and watch the smoke. It’s brown, and you catch a whiff of wet woods. He’s on earth, then. That’s…interesting. You hesitate only a moment and then go for your maps and other supplies, and at the end of it, you’re even more perplexed. He’s in the woods right outside the bunker.

You don’t know what he’s up to. You do know he’s very, very close. You also know how to be sneaky around an angel. And you won't interfere in whatever he’s doing– you’re just going to take a teeny tiny little peek

After all, while curiosity killed the cat, it was satisfaction that brought it back.

 

You probably shouldn’t be doing this.

Buuuut it’s too late to back down now.

You slow as you approach two figures, and then creep as close as the shedding trees and thin brush will allow. One of those figures is Cas and the other is– _yes_ ; you _knew_ Gabriel was involved.

Involved in what, though?

They talk and you strain to hear, but you’re too far and you don’t trust that the crunchy leaves covering the ground will let you get much closer. You _think_ you hear Gabe ask if Cas is ready, but then a bright light comes from that area and you’re not an idiot.

You hit the dirt and cover your face with your arms, but even the black fabric of your jacket being pressed as close as it can be without your eyes popping back inside your skull isn’t enough to keep out the pain of blinding, pure, holy light; fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_.

Your body rumbles and it feels like you’re being slowly crushed into paper until it all finally relents and you take some deep, heaving breaths. You lie there, shaking for a little bit and hoping that the liquid streaming from your eyes is just water. Eventually you’re able to start blinking some dark spots back into your eyes and as your sight slowly returns you breathe a sigh of relief.

Your name is called in two variations of panic and you are pulled up by your arms with no hesitation– maybe a little _too_ much enthusiasm, given by how whoever it is has to set you back down on your feet.

“Hi guys,” you say, still a little breathless. You feel like you just got socked in the chest. “Nice lightshow.”

Cas repeats your name twice. “Did you look? Are you–” Those are definitely his hands on your arms, and you grip his shoulders in attempted reassurance. Judging by the way he’s still squeezing, you’re not doing a great job.

“Easy, Cas; they’re fine. A dumbass, but fine.” Gabriel sounds exasperated. He touches your face and in an instant you can see he very much looks it too, but you can breathe and see and he kind of has a point, even if it all just was an accident. “But seriously– what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Um, I got really curious and followed Cas to see what he was doing,” you say and shrink down a bit.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “What did you think he was doing?”

“I had absolutely no idea,” you say. “I’m sorry Cas; you’ve been off for a couple days and I was just so curious.”

“You could have been severely injured.”

“In my defense I had no idea; it was an accide–” You catch sight of something long and dark sticking out of Cas’s pocket that wasn’t there when he left you. “What is _that_?”

Cas scowls and Gabe laughs. “You have fun explaining that,” Gabe says and flies away.

Cas is silent.

“I’m really, really, really sorry,” you say and lower your head. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just curious.”

Cas sighs and you peek up. “Gabriel did tell me I should give you some sort of excuse. I should have known you’d notice something was…‘off.’” He looks at you sharply. “I’m still not happy you came after me.”

“Understandable.” You raise your hand as if making an oath. “No more following you without permission. Promise.”

“Knowing you, that’s likely a promise to be broken,” he says. He puts his hand in his pocket. “This was meant to be a surprise, but since you’ve already seen it…”

He pulls out a long, sleek, absolutely enormous feather. It’s onyx, except as he twirls it in his fingers the light shows deep blue undertones you’ve never seen outside of a painting. It’s unreal, how gorgeous it is.

“Cas,” you breathe as he hands it to you. “This is amazing.” The edge is soft against your trailing fingertips. “Where did you get it?”

“It’s mine.”

Your head snaps up so fast you practically give yourself whiplash. Again, it’s hard to breathe, but for a different chest-compressing reason. “Yours?”

He nods. “There is a way to bring our wings out into…‘reality,’ so to speak, and give them form. I asked Gabriel for help. It took a bit of time to prepare, but this is the result. How do…how do you like it?”

He sounds anxious but you can’t speak right away. This is a piece of Cas; the closest you’ll ever get to the truest essence of him. Cas reached into another plane and pulled out a piece of himself to give to you.

Your hands are shaking from a combination of adrenaline and emotion. You hold the quill tight in your hand and throw your arms around Cas. “This is…the nicest gift _ever_ ,” you say and take deep, deep breaths. “It’s so incredible, Cas. Thank you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and you can hear the relief. You both stand there for a while, just holding each other, until it gets cold enough that you’re willing to part long enough to get inside.

“Um, just so you know, none of my gifts even come close to this,” you say and hold the feather to your chest. “So you might want to get your disappointment out of the way.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely,” he says. He frowns. “Wait…gifts? More than one?”

“Most of them are little things.” You grin and tug his hand. “Come on– I’ll give you one of yours now, since you gave me mine. Fair is fair.”

He smiles warmly. “I suppose so. Especially since this is but _one_ of yours.”

You laugh and lead him along, choosing to go by foot so you can hold him for longer.

That ends up being a good moment to remember, when, later, you realize you forgot one very important thing.

“What’s all this?”

You come out of your drawer with the old, annotated spellbook to find Cas frowning at the pile of burnt ingredients, maps, and crystals on your desk.

Whoops.


	18. Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes a moment, and Dean, as always, is a good friend.

 

The bodies are accumulating more rapidly.

Castiel has found two more hunters carved to pieces in the past few days. They hold no resemblance to either of you this time, thankfully, but again– far in distance but close in time– another angel has been found, and this time with an accusation of betrayal etched, in Enochian, into the dirt beside them.

Word has spread in heaven and Gabriel is dealing with the fallout. Hannah has her orders. Castiel has his.

“Hey Cas, can you tell your _partner_ not to…” Dean comes to a stop and examines Castiel. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Castiel says. He can’t imagine what makes Dean think he needs a confidant; Castiel is merely…thinking. Pondering. Sitting in quiet contemplation. In any case, he is fine.

Dean shakes his head and wanders off.

Castiel rests his head in his hand. With his other, he runs his fingers over the metacarpal in his pocket. Gruesome, yes, but necessary. There were parts missing from the human victims. It could have been animals, but one of the hands seemed to have been separated too cleanly, despite efforts to make it seem otherwise. Castiel is hoping that the killer took it as some twisted trophy, or perhaps for spellwork. Absently, he thinks Dean might be disturbed with the amount of magick being performed in the bunker these days, but Castiel refuses to be repentant. People and angels are dying, and one can perform rites without becoming an evil witch.

As annoyed as he is with your over-enthusiastic efforts to track him down, he respects the ingenuity. And recognizes an opportunity. Though he suspects otherwise, he desperately hopes the humans and angels are not from the same killer. If he can find the human or monster killing humans, that will be one less thing for him to worry about. The one he can breathe easiest about, knowing you would be safe.

A mug is placed in front of him. He startles at it, and Dean walks away, chuckling. Castiel glares at Dean as he rounds the table to sit across from Castiel. Predictably, Castiel’s expression does nothing to deter his friend. The angel gives in and sniffs the drink. A hot toddy, and one made to Dean’s taste at that. Not that it matters, but he can practically see Sam’s frown and you, laughing at both of the Winchesters as they inevitably bicker. He frowns. He cannot wake you when he has so much to do tonight, but he feels inexplicably lonely at the thought.

Your name, spoken, brings his attention back to Dean, who clears his throat and shifts. “How are…things?”

“They’re good. Very good,” Castiel says.

“The anniversary stuff?”

“Also going well. I came up with a fairly good idea, however…” Castiel sighs and then recounts the events around retrieving the feather. At the end of it, Dean laughs.

“There’s nothing more dangerous than a curious hunter,” Dean says proudly.

“Nothing more dangerous to the prey, or to the hunter themself?” Castiel asks and takes a sip. The liquid is a jumble of taste that passes right through Castiel’s consciousness, but it’s warm, and that’s a pleasant sensation. Also, there’s a dollop of honey in it, and Castiel feels grateful for the consideration even though Dean would only deny it.

“Both,” Dean chuckles and takes a swig.

Silence fills the room and they let it be. Castiel’s mind wanders and Dean works on his drink and scrolls through his phone. At the end of his cup, Dean releases a long sigh, followed by a yawn, and stretches as he stands. Castiel is prepared to bid him goodnight when the man comes to stand next to him and places his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m no good at this shit,” Dean says. “But whatever’s going on, you’ll be all right; so don’t worry about this anniversary shit so much, okay? You two are solid.”

“Yes, we are.” Castiel turns his head up and smiles at Dean. “And don’t worry. I won't.”

Dean nods approvingly and leaves. Castiel wishes he could talk to him about this, but he needs more information first. He stands and sighs, and then flies off to perform the locating spell in a place where he won't be disturbed.


	19. Tactile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel recalls important moments of touch through a grisly discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Major sections italicized to denote flashbacks; a severed body part
> 
> A/N: This one was a lot of fun. I really love vignettes. Also to note, a very direct follow up to yesterday’s prompt. You’ll see how. Anyways, yes, plot; I guess I’m in it now, whoo~

 

_“Do you have a headache, Cas?”_

_Castiel wonders if you sometimes forget what he is, or if you assume similarities where you can, or if you just don’t care. He doesn’t mind overmuch, especially as your fingertips begin to roll around his temple in soothing circles. He leans back, closer to where you stand behind him, and shuts his eyes._

_You chuckle. “Does that feel good?”_

_“Please don’t stop,” he murmurs. You slow, but only because you are then pressing your lips to his forehead. This is bliss. How can he deserve this? This is–_

 

* * *

 

_You slip your hand into his and squeeze. Castiel is taken aback by the motion but you stare straight ahead and keep your grip light but present. Why is your hand in his? Are you leading him somewhere? But you don’t pull ahead; you stay next to him and keep pace. He looks around, wondering if there’s something he’s missing._

_He starts to notice other people holding hands. A father and his children; a mother and her son; a man and woman; two women who, laughing, lean in to kiss each oth–_

_Oh._

_He notices a lot more then. Some family members, yes, but so many more who are obviously in relationships like yours. Two parents, adolescents who swing clumsily into each other, an elderly couple who still look at each other like they are the light of the world._

_He understands that. If not completely, then at least the beginning of such. He feels like a clumsy teenager, pushing into you, but he laces his fingers in yours and is rewarded by a growing, glowing grin._

 

* * *

 

_You grip his shoulders and push down, a fierce, playful smile on your face. He could rise right up, take you by the waist and hold you high in the air. But he likes the pressure against skin and bone, and even the way one of your short, frayed nails digs into his flesh makes him shudder._

_“My angel,” you purr and he would do anything you ask. He wonders if you know that, but as you lean in and press your body to his, he forgets to ask._

 

* * *

 

_“Cas, you got a little something right…no, not there…”_

_Castiel tries to follow Dean’s directions, but either the ice cream has a will of its own or Dean is just terrible at acting as a mirror. Considering Dean just touched his right cheek and then got frustrated and touched his chin, Castiel suspects the latter._

_“Look at me, Cas.”_

_He turns to you right away and you study him. You smirk and Dean doesn’t even have time to moan in protest before your index finger curls around his chin and your thumb swipes over his bottom lip, smearing the ice cream in a way that lets him know exactly where it is._

_“Oops,” you say cheerfully and lean in to kiss the mess away, ignoring Sam, Dean, and Gabriel making juvenile noises in the background._

 

* * *

 

Castiel stares down at the dirt where his locating spell has led him.

He is a mere 2.35 miles from the bunker and the human’s hand rests in a box, perfectly preserved and displayed like a fine piece of jewelry. An envelope rests just above the neatly severed wrist with his name in an elegant scrawl.

Beside the hand is a small vial of a dead angel’s grace.

Castiel had hoped this was human or monster. That this is…

He leans down, snatches the envelope, and stands back up as he tears it open to read a very simple note.

_“Castiel,_

_The hand is lovely, is it not? I couldn’t help but gift it to you– it looks just like your lover’s.”_

There is no signature, no other words, and Castiel reflexively crushes the paper as his hand becomes a fist. He would not consider himself squeamish, but he resists kneeling down until the curiosity cannot be abated any longer. Once he gets close enough to really look, he feels ill and wonders if he can vomit. He thinks it might be likely.

He has watched your hands as they hold various weapons– clenched around a gun, holding an angel blade with a fist or a delicate touch. He has seen your fingers trail over words in a book and flick through pages, sometimes leisurely, sometimes with the furious purpose that life and death situations can’t help but produce. Holding a pen, tapping on a table, fidgeting nervously, he has seen you move them in so many situations and yes, _yes_ , this– this looks like your hand.

This angel, murderer of brethren and innocent human alike, has gotten close enough to you to see your hands, to see your hands so closely that they have even carved approximations of your old wounds on this dismembered limb. How? When? When did they get close enough and how did Castiel not _notice_?

Gabriel is too busy with heaven; he has other responsibilities.

Castiel only has you.

 

* * *

 

_“Cas,” you gasp and shiver, soaked through and exposed to the cold night air. The mermaid lies dead in the sand and Dean is taking care of Sam, talking him through his newest near-death experience._

_Castiel throws his jacket around you and shakes almost as much as you do. You were gone. You and Sam were almost gone and all he can think is ‘not again; please, please don’t leave me.’_

_“Cas,” you say again and your hands move clumsily up his face and grip his hair nearly painfully. He relishes the feeling, even as you smash your face into his in the most awkward, gratifying kiss he has ever received. All he can think is, ‘don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me again.’_

 

* * *

 

He won't lose you again.


	20. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Cas have your own concerns, but still find time to carve out a nice moment together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fluuuuuuuff
> 
> A/N: This thing features maybe the sappiest, worst romantic lines I’ve ever written? I’m sorry; I don’t care [Rolls around in schmoop]

 

“It’s so nice out tonight.”

“Mm hm.”

You turn your head. Cas is still looking up, unmoving. Physically he’s still with you, but you have no idea where he’s really at. “Cas?” you ask.

He doesn’t respond. The crinkling at the edge of his eyes, that deep-set frown– it worries you. He’s been stressed out all month, it seems, and it’s getting to the point where you’ll soon have to sit Gabriel down and suss out what he knows about this rogue angel. Cas isn’t alone and shouldn’t have to act like it.

You say his name again and squeeze his hand. He blinks, dark eyelashes fluttering against his skin, and he turns his head to look at you, blank at first. His fingers shift in your hand, though, and his eyes move around like he’s trying to get the lay of the land. “Hey, angel. Are you back with me?”

“Did I go elsewhere?” he asks and his eyes widen as he looks around more frantically.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “Not literally,” you assure him and he settles back down. “Your mind seems like it’s on something else; that’s all.”

“Oh.” He sighs. “I…suppose it is.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask. You grip one of his hands in both of yours and turn on your side to see him more easily. “Are more angels…” You don’t know how to finish asking if more angels have been found dead. There’s no real polite way to say, ‘How many of your siblings have been murdered?’

“It has tapered off,” he says, but there’s no real relief in his tone.

“I guess that’s not necessarily a good thing,” you say. It makes the culprit harder to find. Or they might be using that grace to gear up for something. “Do you need–”

“We have it handled.”

You huff. “ _Cas_.”

He turns his body and kisses you. “It’s nothing you need to worry over,” he says and the lines around his bright blue eyes soften.

“I do need to worry, Cas. Angels are being drained of grace. Angels on earth. In case you haven’t noticed, _you_ are an angel on earth.” A terrible solution strikes you and you bite your lip. But it wouldn’t be forever. “Maybe…maybe you should go to heaven for the time being?”

He snorts. “Are you going to retire as well? Find a desolated wilderness to hole up in?”

“Ugh. You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” you grumble, but you snuggle closer because yeah, you can see his point. Still, it’s annoying.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses you. “But I need to see this through.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not exactly known for sitting on the sidelines.” But you feel restless so you do a roll and plant yourself over Cas on your hands and knees. You grip the blanket in your hands, feeling the vague cold of the ground through the thick cover. “Gabriel isn’t making you do this alone, is he?”

“There are other angels assisting, yes.” He reaches up and holds your face. “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

It’s a little manipulative– he knows how you feel when he calls you that– but maybe it’s not uncalled for. You _did_ literally ask him to stay out of a hunt involving a real danger to him and his. You wouldn’t have been quite so nice had he said that to you. “I’m sorry.” You lean down to kiss him. “I just have a bad feeling.”

“Hopefully it will remain unfounded,” Cas says. “But I will be careful regardless.”

“Okay.” It’s as good as anything gets in a life where monsters come in all shapes and sizes and species. But nobody is assured of anything, and you're going to take every good moment you can get.

As you go to roll back into your spot, though, Cas holds your hips and keeps you in place. “Hey, you’re not gonna be able to see the sky if I stay here.”

“Hm.” He slides his hand over your cheek. “I don’t need to see any other stars; I have you right here.”

Your jaw drops. “That was so– oh my G– Jesu– _Cas_.” You collapse like a folding chair and bury your face into his chest as you laugh.

“You like it,” Cas says smugly. “I can tell.”

“Yeah; but it’s so cheesy, Cas.” But you move up and kiss him and he wraps his arms around you.

“Did it hurt?” He kisses from your mouth to your ear. “When you crashed into my life like a comet; a brilliant, shining force that has made an indelible dent in my very being, and created a valley so beautiful I will protect it with all that I am?”

You want to laugh but you also don’t. It’s so heartfelt it seizes your chest for a moment. It’s so very Cas– literal and awkward and honest and so full of love.

The stars fade into the background and you take in the only thing you really need.


	21. Secret(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn’t like keeping secrets, but he likes keeping his family safe. Sometimes the former must be done in service of the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas friendship ftw

 

Castiel needs a plan.

Technically he needs several, but most of them are forming in the background and they’ll all pull together once he has his main point of attack figured out. He hopes. He has pulled together far more under far worse conditions; this shouldn’t be so hard.

He just hates having to lie again.

“Is everything okay, Cas?”

Castiel lifts his head to nod at Sam. “I’m fine.”

However the younger Winchester continues to stare at him. “Is everything okay upstairs?” he asks with measured carelessness in his tone. “I haven’t seen Gabriel in a while.”

“He has been occupied, I believe, but I haven’t had time to check on him,” Castiel says. “If he needs me he knows to call for me.”

Sam nods but doesn’t relent in his focus. Castiel is running through the situation, considering what excuses would be too little or too much, when Sam asks, “Are you still stressing out about the anniversary?”

Castiel winces. Can one have a belated anniversary? He’s not going to ask that. “Sam, if gifts are exchanged…early…is it customary to give another?” This is a moot point– he has something else in his pocket he plans to give as a token– but he wonders if perhaps he is doing too much?

Sam laughs a little. “Cas. You really have to stop worrying about this so much– you look like you’ve got a life or death situation going on.”

Castiel shrugs mildly. “I have concerns.”

Sam shakes his head. “Not as much as you seem to think. If all you did was tell each other ‘happy anniversary’ I think they’d even be fine with that. Seriously Cas, it’s supposed to be a happy thing. A marker for something good in your life.”

And it is. It marks one of the best things he has. His acceptance with Sam and Dean, even after everything he has put them through; Gabriel’s return and the closer relationship that has unfurled since; and– you. His family is in danger from all angles and something must be done about it.

“I’m going to be away for a few days, at least,” Castiel says. “There’s something I must do in relation to our anniversary.”

Sam rolls his eyes but he smiles. “Do you need me to cover for you?”

“It’s not necessary; I do not believe they will ask after me.” He could use Gabriel to hide under, if they ask after him, and Gabriel is so busy he will not even notice. He hesitates to use the word ‘perfect’– nothing ever turns out that way– but it will be enough for the hunt. He hopes.

Keeping secrets, lying by omission; none of it feels good. But it all feels necessary. As he bids Sam goodbye, he reflects on whether this is a good thing or not; whether the ends justify the means. If the means make sure you don’t end up a pile of carved flesh in the woods, well, he cannot see the downside.

Even if you yell at him for it, he will withstand, and apologize. But he can’t regret something that keeps you safe. And he can’t tell you that, either, because everything will spill out with it and this is only the marker for your first year together. He doesn’t want to scare you away with the depths of his feelings. So he will hold those close, as well, and wait for the moment he can tell you everything.

“Hey Cas?”

Castiel stops. “Yes, Sam?”

Sam puts his book down and comes to stand next to Castiel by the stairs. “The best gifts are the ones you spend time on,” he says. “You don’t necessarily have to buy anything; just spending time together is nice. Or spending time on something just for them.” Sam’s smile turns sad with nostalgia. “When I was with Jess, one time I wrote her a…love letter, I guess; just a page of what I thought about her, how she made me feel. It wasn’t even really that good, but it made her happy for days.”

Castiel thinks about that. “That’s a good idea, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam nods, his smile lightening on his face. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days, then. Be safe, Cas.”

“You do the same,” Castiel says and they share a brief embrace. As they pull apart, Castiel adds, “Perhaps Eileen might appreciate a note, herself.”

“You too?” Sam groans.

“Your interest is very apparent.” Castiel casts his gaze in the direction of your room, where you sleep peacefully. “And as someone who almost lost what they have before they had it…this life is not conducive to waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah, I-I get that. I get it a lot.” Sam smiles ruefully. “I’ll…think about it.”

Castiel nods, because sometimes that’s as good as you can get with a Winchester. “Be well, Sam,” he says, and flies away to make sure that remains the case.


	22. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas went out on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mention of blood, vague mention of sex stuff

 

You twirl your angel blade and slide it into its sheath. The hatchet is going to have to be cleaned, but that’s okay. You just took out a vampire nest _and_ a coven, so it’s actually hard to not feel like a badass.

…Okay, so the nest was small and the coven was even tinier, but still.

You could have done without a good half of that mess, though; apparently vampire and witch negotiations involve…well…an orgy, apparently. You never thought you’d be grateful for the day you were covered in blood, but at least it’s _only_ blood.

When you get back to the car you check your phone reflexively, and frown at the lack of new messages. Cas has been gone for a couple of days now and hasn’t checked in. You can’t get a hold of Gabriel and it’s getting time to worry, you feel. Cas would be careful, you think, but you don’t know the angels he’s working with. Hannah seems…nice, you guess. A little stilted and by-the-book but she respects Cas enough that she’d watch his back. As long as Cas let her. He can be so damn stubborn sometimes.

The sun is just barely coming up but it casts enough light that something on the ground glints. You push yourself off the side of the car and approach it cautiously. It’s so small you have to kneel down and move some of the brush aside. Sitting there is…a gold ring. You’ve learned a lesson or two from Bilbo, though, (and more than two from the number of cursed objects you’ve seen over the years), so you take your blade and use the tip to lift it. It’s a pretty band and certainly looks real enough to be valuable.

Shit. That means people actually _do_ walk out here.

You had chosen this area to burn the bodies because you thought it was deserted but if that’s not true, you need to am-scray just in case. Getting spotted by someone walking their dog would probably be almost as bad as being spotted by an animal hunter, and the more light comes up, the more trouble there’ll be. You get back to the car, throw the weapons inside, and tear out of there.

 

You get back to the bunker unscathed and un-…un-pulled-over. Unbothered. Whatever; no cops clocked you and you throw your bag holding your bloody clothes over to the corner. You can do laundry later. Sam and Dean are out on their own gig and you have the bunker to yourself for a while. If Cas were here it would be perfect, but you’re going to try and enjoy it nonetheless.

As you’re pulling out your weapons for more immediate cleaning, though, you notice the ring has gotten stuck on your angel blade. You grimace. You hadn’t meant to grab it, and now whoever dropped it will never get it back; but it’s here now, and it is pretty. If not completely useless. Gold doesn’t do much to ward off creatures. At least, not that you know of. It _does_ fit pretty perfectly on a few of your fingers, though, and you hold it up to the light to see which one it looks better on.

Shiny. Gilded. Mostly useless, but maybe someday you can trade it for money if you find yourself in a financial pinch. Or maybe there’s a way to track an item’s owner without destroying the object in question? You haven’t found one yet, but you bet whoever lost it is missing it terribly. It has an engraving around the inside, so maybe if you take a little peek at–

Enochian.

You frown deeply. A ring, etched with Enochian, just happened to be sitting outside on the ground for you to find. You’ll believe in coincidences on occasion– after you have exhausted all other avenues. The lettering is tiny and complex, and though you haven’t received an answer yet, you pray to Cas and then fire off a quick text just to make sure he gets the message. Nothing happens for a good twenty minutes and even though you’re trying to wind down from the hunt, there’s something familiar about the lettering. So you grab the makeshift dictionary of Enochian and sit down with it, intent on at least translating some of it.

When you’re done decoding the simple message, your heart rate skyrockets.

_‘For my light,’_ is the message. And then your name, translated.

The ring is Cas’s.

Cas, who is not answering _any_ of your messages.

You pray to him a few more times, begging for _any_ word, and you text relentlessly for ten minutes while you pray some more. Prayers to Gabriel continue to be ignored, and even Sam and Dean aren’t picking up.

You have no choice but to find Cas on your own.

“Son of a fucking _bitch_ ,” you hiss and go to your special keepsake box. Some things are more precious than others, and there is only one part of this world you cannot live without.

You take out Cas’s feather.


	23. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is having an encounter with the angel responsible for stealing the grace of his kin. It is not going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Torture, violence, blood
> 
> A/N: I am so sorry. Bear with me! Also, uh: parallels to last year’s story were unintentional, it just kind of worked out this way. Whoops~

 

 

 

_“You okay, Cas?”_

The memory of your voice is a temporary balm on an unbearable reality. Castiel tries not to, but eventually he _screams_. Heat burns like holy fire across his skin, but it does not consume him. It licks at him, causing pain where it can, but it doesn’t destroy him.

That would be too easy.

“Humans and demons have such ingenious weapons. Elegant, in some cases,” Maroth says. He cuts a shallow slice in Castiel’s arm and the pain makes him tremble. “Such little damage, but so _much_ effect.”

“How?” Castiel uses the chains to keep himself upright. They are too tight to let him fall, regardless, but the least he can do is keep his feet under him. “How did you hide from me?”

“When I was playing medical examiner?” Maroth scoffs and runs the tip of the knife down Castiel’s chest. Castiel presses back against the wall. “ _Gabriel’s_ not the only one adept at hiding. I have my own tricks on this worthless piece of mud. I _was_ a little surprised that neither you or your pet human noticed, but it makes sense you’d choose an animal as dull as you.”

“Do _not_ speak of them like that,” Castiel practically growls.

“Like the dumb beast they are? What are you going to do about it, Castiel?” Maroth looks at him with undisguised hatred.

“Kill you,” Castiel says without hesitation. “You would be lucky. They would do so much worse.”

“We’ll see.”

Castiel goes cold– but then the knife, tipped with a tincture involving holy oil, digs into him again and the fire ignites, spreading through his grace, spreading through his being. “You won't,” he manages to choke through the pain.

“Animals are predictable,” Maroth says. He picks up a long, thin metal rod with ridges like a corkscrew and sharpened crudely at one end. He slides it into Castiel’s shoulder, slowly; twisting. “Set a lure in a trap, and they will come. That little ring of yours was certainly shiny enough. I don’t doubt they’re already on their way.”

Panic threatens to seize Castiel, but he pushes it down. It’s difficult enough to stay conscious, and if you are truly coming, he needs to get out of here. _Now_. “Why kill your kin, Maroth? If you’re angry with me, why them?”

“They chose to live as humans. They treated the fall like it was a _gift_ ,” Maroth hisses and spits into the dirt. “There’s not a word in any language, dead or alive, that fits their treachery. Once I’ve finished here, I’m going to kill all the rest of them as well.”

“And the humans?”

Maroth shrugs. “Why should I care about some slaughtered cows? I had a point to make.”

Castiel whispers your name and glares up at Maroth. “Why _them_?”

“Because.” Maroth leans over and places his face right in Castiel’s. “Do you know how many angels died when the gates closed, Castiel?”

Castiel flinches and looks away. Maroth grabs his chin and forces eye contact. “I had a love. Sorush. They were kind, gentle, elegant; heavenly perfection in a way even the archangels could only have dreamed.” Maroth stands and walks over to the bench holding his instruments of torture. He doesn’t pick one up right away. He leans his hands on the surface and stares. “Not all of us despaired over our Father. Some of us found ways to get on without him. Sorush was mine. My _everything_.”

“Sorush was a good angel–” Castiel starts and just as quickly Maroth strikes his face. Blood streams from a deep cut near his temple, where a piece of the rod in Maroth’s hand had scraped across.

“Do not say their name,” Maroth hisses.

Castiel defiantly turns his head back to face Maroth, though his vision swims. The wards and runes Maroth is employing in keeping Castiel captive in his physical body mean that the pain is getting to him. Still, he persists. He must. “How would…your lover feel to see you now?”

Maroth’s face twists into a hideous expression of anger and he stabs through Castiel’s side, making him yell out in agony. “I wouldn’t know, _Castiel_ ,” Maroth spits and twists the rod. Castiel grimaces and bites down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. “Sorush died in the fall. Worse, they died an _angel_. I’ll never see them again, Castiel! Because of _YOU_!”

Castiel shouts as the metal is ripped out, and he slumps in his chains.

Maroth studies him coldly. “It’s a shame your lover can go to heaven.” His face twists into a smirk, though his eyes still burn with anger. “But you won't. Once I’ve finished causing them utter agony, I’ll kill them. And then I’ll kill you. Separated forever– I can think of nothing more fair than that.”

“Don’t…” Castiel says weakly, blood seeping from points uncountable. Maroth jabs a needle into his neck, extracting more grace, and the pain finally takes him from consciousness.


	24. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You break down on the way to save Cas, and get picked up by a good samaritan. How…fortunate.

 

“Son!” _Whap!_ “Of!” _Thunk!_ “A!” _Dun!_ “Bitch!”

No matter how hard you kick the car, though, it doesn’t magically start up again. ‘Son of a bitch’ is right. Of all the times for Dean to be too busy to pick up his fucking phone, it had to be _now_. He would know how to fix this. Maybe. And if he didn’t, you both would probably start arguing, which would release a little of this adrenaline. What you wouldn’t give for a greenhorn vampire and your machete right now.

The wind begins to rush and you zip your jacket all the way up, teeth starting to chatter reflexively. You look around at nothing but fields of farmland and can’t remember the last time you saw a car on this forsaken fucking road.

You take a few deep breaths to try and calm down. It works…a little. Despite the futility, you check your phone again. You called and texted Sam, Dean, Charlie, Claire, just about every hunter or hunter-adjacent person you know, and none of them have gotten back to you yet. Not even a ‘busy’ or ‘k’ (you’re looking at _Claire_ specifically on that one) and that isn’t normal.

_‘Gabriel, I know you’re busy, but I could really really really use a little help right now,’_ you pray again. With the same results.

Fuck it. The car isn’t coming back but you’re only a few miles out from your destination anyways. Granted, approaching a potentially inhabited farm on foot makes you dumber than most horror movie protagonists, but most horror movie protagonists aren’t having waking nightmares of their boyfriend locked up in a cellar somewhere.

You breathe deep. Cas has to be fine. Cas _is_ fine; he dove into hell itself and pulled Dean out; he’s survived archangels and demons and humanity and so much shit that you and Sam and Dean have pulled him into. If he’s been okay this far then he has to be okay now.

You’re leaning in your car, packing up every piece of weaponry you can feasibly carry, when headlights come down the road. It’s only dusk but they’re high and bright, and you quickly slip your blade into the bag just before the car stops next to you.

“Hey!” a man calls and leans out. You squint at him. He looks familiar somehow, but also doesn’t. After a few seconds you pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut tight. You’re just being paranoid. It’s probably that he looks like every other random middle-aged man you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” you say and approach the car, but keep a very cautious distance. No need to get sloppy now.

“Car broke down?” he asks.

“Yeah, it just–” The wind whips harder and you have to grab your hoodie to keep it from smacking into your head again. “Just won't start!” you have to yell the beat out the howling.

“I’m just up the road; you can come stay while the storm dies down!” he yells back. You hesitate, but nod, because staying here isn’t an option while this windstorm picks up. You go back to the car and lean in to grab your bag. As you prepare to stand, though, you happen to glance through the passenger window and see something you hadn’t before.

On a fencepost, you can barely make out a small engraving. A line of Enochian, etched into the wood.

Your gut churns and, though part of you really doesn’t want to know, you snag your glasses, the bag, and then hurry to get into the car even though it feels like your entire body is trying to propel you anywhere else.

You slam the door and breathe in the calm cab. Your ‘savior’ starts the truck up and you unfold the pair of glasses in your hands. “I’m so glad I found these,” you say. “I thought I lost them in the wind.”

“That storm is really kicking a fuss,” he says, just a touch too stilted and formal to be from the area. It makes sense when you put on the glasses and wings fill your vision. They’re not full like Cas’s but mostly broken and brittle, like how Cas described his wings before Gabriel restored him. Parts are full and almost fluffy, but they shift in colors from bright blue to sickly gray, like poison running down only to disappear where it would otherwise drip.

“Better?” he asks.

You force a sigh of relief. “It’s nice to be able to see again.”

“I bet,” he chuckles and his wings shift and move.

You turn your head and stare out the window to hide your flinching as those ragged, broken things seem to sharpen and stab into you. Considering Cas’s wings wrap around you on instinct, you can pretty well guess what this angel is thinking of.

‘Son of a bitch’ indeed.


	25. Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel needs to free himself of more than one problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one runs right up into tomorrow’s piece.

 

Castiel is out of time.

He strains to free himself but nothing will bend. The wards keep him, essentially, human, and even Dean’s tricks aren’t working this time. He has no bobby pin, or safety pin, or paperclip, or other mundane metal object of which to speak, and breaking his thumb has only left him in substantial pain and not at all allowed him to slip out of the manacles.

Angel-trapping wards. Sometimes, he loves human ingenuity. Sometimes, it’s a damned _nuisance_.

And sometimes, like now, it is a life or death emergency. Castiel squints at the cuffs and turns them around as much as he is able. The markings are tiny but etched firmly in the rusted metal. He has no sharp objects to speak of. But he does have metal, literally, on hand.

He does his best to hold one of the cuffs still and uses the edge to scratch at one of the wards. As he works on that, he plans ahead. Maroth, if he does not come to reason, _must_ die. Castiel hates the thought of it. Hates the idea that he has to kill yet another of his brethren. And yet, Maroth is almost completely mad already.

While Castiel can see how that came to be, he can’t allow it to continue any further. In the best case scenario, Maroth is calmed to see reason and brought back to heaven to stand for his crimes. Gabriel, being the sympathetic and kind being he tries so hard _not_ to be (or at least, not allow anyone to see) will sentence accordingly.

Nothing is ever the best case scenario. So the worst case scenario is: Castiel does not get free, Maroth remains unmoved, and enacts his plan of revenge against Castiel by hurting and murdering you. Castiel is then killed and his essence ceases to be. Or there’s actually a place for angels and Castiel spends an eternity in grief and becomes as mad as Maroth.

Castiel moves the cuff so sharply it grazes his hand and leaves a red mark. It doesn’t bleed, but that doesn’t matter. The pain is hardly a distraction, but then, he has too much work to do yet to let his mind wander off too far. He counted six wards in the restraints alone and he’s barely finished with the first, so he gets back to work, grinding it away.

The worst case scenario will not come to be simply because Castiel will not allow it. He cannot allow you to suffer for his mistakes. You, Dean, and Sam have all suffered too much for him. No more.

The actual scenario he’s hoping for is simple. Castiel gets free and stops Maroth before he hurts you. He then dismantles the wards, with your help, and gets word to Gabriel. Maroth is either dead or captured, but absolutely stopped. You only give him the silent treatment for a week or two instead of eschewing his presence until the new year.

That last might be a little optimistic considering Castiel has, perhaps not outright, but certainly by omission, lied to you in order to take on a hunt he should have waited for help on. But right now, Castiel knows only three things. One: erasing the wards is his key to freedom. Two: stopping Maroth permanently is the only key to peace. Three: keeping you alive and safe and sane is his only key to happiness.

Castiel is only on the fourth ward when he hears the front door of the farmhouse open.


	26. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel knows fear well enough by now, but every time it returns is always like the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Over-use of italics for several flashbacks

 

Castiel is, unfortunately, well-acquainted with fear.

 

* * *

 

_Castiel looks at Dean Winchester and knows, **knows** what he must do. He doesn’t want to– he’ll lose his family, everything he is and has ever known. What will he even become? Will he waste away to nothing? Will he become an adversary, like his brother? Will he be human? What does that even **mean**?_

_Existential terror cannot save him from this path, though. This twisting of his being– is he…is he sick? Does his father know? Is he already falling?_

_Might as well make it official, then._

_Castiel puts a finger to his lips, and begins his descent to the jagged rocks below._

 

* * *

 

_“Maybe one day, but today you’re **my** little bitch.”_

_Raphael is fierce and frightening even trapped as he is. His power still feels tremendous and lays over everything like a blanket heavy enough to suffocate, and it takes every ounce of stupid courage Castiel has not to quail and quiver and beg beneath it. If Dean could sense the true malice, he would go mad, Castiel thinks. Humans can’t fathom how terrifying archangels truly are; it would destroy them._

_Nonetheless, when Raphael’s eyes turn to Dean, Castiel puts his wing in front of the human. Subjectively, it is pointless. Objectively, it brings Castiel back into his brother’s focus._

_Castiel would be shaking, if he could show fear, but he continues to stand tall, regardless._

 

* * *

 

_Castiel doesn’t want to go after the Leviathans. He doesn’t want to have to face his mistakes; his awful, awful mistakes._

_As he looks around the room he sees them anyway, in wounded, angry, and forced apathetic expressions. Sam, Dean, and you– his family when he had none. He is terrified of failing again, of watching you all fall to the Leviathans while he is powerless to stop it._

_However would it be any different **imagining** how you fall to the Leviathans, knowing he could have tried, but sat back and did nothing?_

_Castiel extends his arms in defeat, and can only hope that he’s the first to die._

 

* * *

 

_“Because I love you.”_

_But how do you know? Castiel paces anxiously in a cavern otherwise untouched by humans, trying to think and mostly unable to get past his own vanity. Each time he replays the ‘I love you’ in his mind he begins to smile and lose all rationality. But is anything about this rational?_

_He loves you, as well._

_But he can’t. He shouldn’t. There’s nothing he can give you that couldn’t be better served by a human; a hunter at that. Someone who understands your life, who can be with you in every way. Castiel is a defected angel who also can never be like other humans; not completely. He straddles the line, caught between understanding too much and not enough– simultaneously, for both. Another hunter could understand you so much better than Castiel ever can._

_But would they love you like they should?_

_The more he thinks about it, the angrier it makes him. The thought of you falling in love with someone who might use or otherwise take advantage of you, it makes him sick– that you might love someone who might hurt you._

_Castiel thinks of your crestfallen expression and winces. He hurt you. And he loves you. ‘The best of intentions’ is a lesson he thought he had learned well and yet he still finds himself making that mistake._

_But you love him; say that you would stay by his side even if he did not return your affections. Which he does; he’s just…afraid. Afraid of hurting you, afraid of seeing you get hurt, afraid of failing to love you enough or watching you fall out of love with him. You love him now, though, and as anxious as he is about the possible disasters, there is currently no greater fear he has than the thought of having something so good, so near, and pushing it away because he cannot predict the end of it._

_Castiel spreads his wings and flies to an uncertain future._

 

* * *

 

_Hunting has never been so harrowing._

_“Castiel I swear to your father if you get in my way again I will shoot you!”_

_Castiel immediately moves out of the way of your shotgun and scans the area._

_“Would that even hurt you?” Sam asks._

_“It would waste valuable ammo and place them at a potential disadvantage.”_

_Dean bursts out into laughter and you whirl on your heel. “That’s it!” you snap and point at Dean. “You shut up!” You point at Sam. “You…also shut up!” Sam rolls his eyes, but then you turn on Castiel, true anger in your eyes, and he is frozen. “And you. You stay behind me or I will cut myself open and banish you. Got it?”_

_Castiel frowns and has half a dozen reasons for why you need help, but he swallows them down and nods. You turn back around and lead the way. No matter how hard Castiel pokes, Dean refuses to get in front of you._

_Later, Castiel responds to your request for a meeting in the library. When he arrives it is eerily quiet, and you gesture at the chair across from you._

_“I told Sam and Dean to go out so we could talk alone,” you say and sit taller._

_Castiel says nothing but feels himself breaking apart. Is this it? What line has he stepped over so terribly? Is there a way to stop this, or would he be seen as too–_

_“Cas!”_

_He comes back to focus and you look…concerned. Maybe he can save this. He must try, no matter what. “I’m sorry; whatever I did, I will do my best to fix.”_

_“What? Cas, relax,” you say, frowning, but less in anger and more in confusion. “It’s not like we’re breaking up.”_

_Castiel praises his Father. “We’re not?”_

_Your mouth drops open. “Of course not!” You reach across the table and he holds your hands gratefully. “You're really annoying right now Cas but I love you and I can’t imagine breaking up at all, much less over something so trivial.” But you sigh and sit back, taking your hands with you. “That said…this is the third hunt in a row you’ve body blocked me. What is going on?”_

_“I just want to keep you safe.”_

_You puff out air and frown. This time in explicit displeasure. “Is this about the mermaid?”_

_Castiel looks down._

_“Cas that was two months ago–”_

_“One month, thirteen days, and–” Castiel looks at a clock, “–fourteen hours, eight minutes, thirty-three seconds.”_

_You appear deliberately unimpressed. “Cas.”_

_“You almost died.”_

_“I know, Cas, and I’m sorry. I know it sucks,” you say and take his hand back. “But there’s being concerned and being overbearing. I don’t need you at my front– that’s where my weapons go– but I do like when you have my back.”_

_“I know.” Castiel sighs. “But it was just like the werewolf and I’m…afraid. I don’t know how to stop.”_

_You make a noise and pat his hand. “Don’t worry Cas; we’ll figure something out.”_

_“Do you think we can? I hate this feeling.”_

_You smile and lean in while bringing his hand to meet your lips. “We will. And even if we don’t get it right away, we’ll take as much time as we need to.”_

_He isn’t sure, but he decides to follow your optimism. “All right.”_

_The fear does, thankfully, ease with time._

 

* * *

 

Castiel watches you enter the room, too choked with fear to cry out. He should have stayed to be at your back; a weapon at your front isn’t enough to stop the mad angel behind you as he raises the metal poker to–

Wait. He’s fairly certain that’s an angel blade you’re holding to your chest, just inside your jacket lapel.

From behind the false lenses of your holy-fire-burned glasses, you wink.


	27. Pumpkin Patch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel is dead, so everything should be fine. Right?

 

You drag Castiel out of the cellar and stumble into a field of dying vegetation. A few rotten pumpkins sit nearby but the brush is otherwise undisturbed in the wake of the harvest. Castiel looks at you as you help him to his knees. You haven’t said a word to him since– well, you actually haven’t said a word to him at all yet. After Maroth was dead you had looked him over and he had reassured you, but as gentle as you have been with him, he’s not certain what this silence means. Are you angry? Concerned? Afraid? More than one? All three?

Castiel assumes that it’s a bad sign that you refuse to give back his blade.

Your names are called by multiple voices and you both look up to see a veritable stampede of hunters. Sam, Dean, Charlie, Eileen, Claire, Jody, and Donna; all of them rush to meet you. Dean, Sam, and Donna relieve you of Castiel’s weight and help him sit on the ground.

“We got your message and came as quick as possible,” Eileen says and puts her gun away.

Claire looks at Castiel and crosses her arms. “ _Someone_ needs lessons in how not to hunt like a dumbass and it’s _not_ me.”

“Claire,” Jody says sternly.

“She’s not wrong,” Dean mutters, anger apparent. His hands are gentle, though. “Are you gonna be all right? We took care of a bunch of wards but Gabriel still isn’t calling back. Bastard.”

“I will be fine; none of this is fatal,” Castiel says.

Dean claps Castiel’s shoulder and, perhaps purposefully, ignores his wince. “What about you, Killer?” Dean asks and looks back.

You stand only a few feet away, arms crossed and face blank. Castiel watches and waits, hoping to see some change, some reaction, but there is none. “I’m fine.”

That’s a blatant lie. Aside from your obvious emotional state, you have scratches on your cheek from where Maroth threw you through a rickety wooden door, and your hand is still covering your left ribs. But your sharp look is enough to stop Castiel before he starts.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, giving Castiel’s shoulder one reassuring squeeze before he stands. Cautiously, like he isn’t sure what you’ll do.

“Yes,” you say and look at Dean. “Hey Dean, my car broke down but I’m not sure if it was angel fuckery or something else. Mind taking a look?”

“No; we’ll go,” Dean says and stands. He looks at Castiel, who nods. “I parked over–”

“I’m a couple miles that-a-way; I’ll meet you there,” you say and start walking.

“You sure you don’t want a ri–”

“I’ll _meet you there_.”

Castiel flinches and Sam and Dean trade concerned looks before they move to act. Dean goes in one direction, presumably for the Impala, and Sam goes after you, Eileen at his side.

The rest of the group is silent for several uncomfortable moments.

“Ooowee,” Donna says, her mouth stretched out and down. “You’re in trouble.”

Jody shakes her head and takes Dean’s former place. She then takes off her jacket, pours a bit of water on the sleeve, and starts cleaning away some of the blood. Claire sits on his other side and looks annoyed but also concerned. “It’s all right,” he says. “It truly isn’t fatal.”

“But it is painful,” Claire says, frowning at him.

“There are worse things,” Castiel says, glancing at where you had stood.

“Aw sweetie, it’ll be all right,” Donna says and shifts awkwardly. “I’d hug you but I think I might break a bone or somethin’.”

“The sentiment is appreciated,” Castiel says. You’ve never been so angry as to ignore him so completely. How is he possibly going to fix this? What should he say? Do?

“Don’t worry Cas; just look at them with that sad face and those big blue eyes will do all the work for you,” Charlie says.

“If only that would get _me_ out of trouble,” Claire mutters and Jody rolls her own eyes.

Castiel is with Claire on this one.

 

“Looks like you're good,” Dean says and drops the hood back into place. “Pure angelic fuckery.”

“Thanks,” you say but don’t look away from the small patch of ground you find yourself currently staring at. The ground is nice. It doesn’t sneak out and almost get murdered by its grief-stricken, violent brother. ‘Good job, ground,’ you think. ‘You’re smarter than an angel.’

Dean stands by the open door and leans against the car, over you. Thankfully being in the driver’s seat tucks you away from him. “Sam and Eileen went to get rid of more wards.”

“Cool.”

“Cas is alive.”

You flinch. He almost wasn’t, but. “Yeah.”

“And the douchebag angel is dead.”

“Thoroughly.” Sometimes you can’t help but give 110 percent.

“So what’s wrong?”

“Aside from the fact that my boyfriend was just tortured and almost killed but I’m so mad at him that I can’t even talk to him right now because I’ll just start yelling even though I don’t want to while he’s hurt so bad?” You sigh and lean against the seat. “Maybe the fact that he fucking lied to me and took off after someone who very obviously _wanted_ to kill him, but did his goddamn best to make sure I didn’t know.”

You look up at Dean, who nods. “I don’t really have a problem with yelling at him,” Dean says. “He fucked up and he’s gonna hear about it. Especially since he sent you racing headlong into it.” Dean drops his voice. “I’m guessing he was trying to protect you but…fucking reckless…” Dean mutters some insults under his breath and it is a relief to know that you’re not the only one upset by this. That you're not being unreasonable.

“Hey,” Sam says as he and Eileen come back. “We got all the wards we could. Hopefully Cas can start healing up.”

You and Dean snort in unified derision. Sam’s eyebrows squish together in concern.

“Let’s go back,” Eileen says and walks around to get into your passenger seat.

Dean and Sam go back to the Impala. As much as you don’t want to, you pull your legs in, shut the door, and start the engine. You still have no idea how you should react to Cas, but–

“Are we trying to lose a race with the tortoise?”

Thankfully, you have Eileen to keep you on track. And whatever happens with her and Sam, at least she’ll fit right in with the rest of you. Jerk.

Thinking of jerks, you push on the gas. It’s time to take care of yours.


	28. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tries to write an apology note, with a little help from his friends.

 

_‘My love,’_

“No, no, no; that is way too sappy,” Claire says.

“It needs to be sorta romantic though,” Donna counters.

The two women look over at Charlie, who, in turn, looks frozen in place. They then look at Jody, who raises her hands and steps back. “I’m not touching this one. Love letters are _not_ my area of expertise.”

“It’s not a love letter. It’s an apology,” Claire says.

“That is going to his partner! It needs to be romantic,” Donna says.

Castiel sighs and frowns at the page. He did not know writing a letter was going to be so difficult. When Charlie had come up with it, it had seemed a universally loved idea, and even Castiel thought it genius. You may not be willing or able to talk to him, yet, but this is something you’ll be able to read when you can stand the thought of forgiveness.

…If he ever finishes it. A universally loved idea it may be, but when it comes to execution there seems to be wildly differing opinions.

Castiel looks to Charlie, pleading for help. “Wow, yeah, I was right; those _are_ deadly,” she says. She screws up her mouth for a few seconds, and then her face relaxes again. “Do you have any nicknames for them?”

“None I use regularly. Sometimes…‘My Light.’ ‘My Love.’ ‘My…’” Castiel hesitates. Should he share the–

“Ew.”

Apparently not.

“Claire!” Donna says, but she’s smiling. “It’s _sweet_.”

“Very sweet,” Charlie says, smiling wide in a way that Castiel isn’t sure whether she’s going to tease the both of you relentlessly or whether it just pleases her. Possibly both. He can only hope she waits until you are no longer mad at him.

“They do get flustered by the names on occasion.” Castiel frowns. “But it’s also…those names are…”

“Special,” Jody says. Her smile is sad, and understanding. “For special occasions.”

“Yes. Special moments,” Castiel says. He tears the page out of the notebook and crumples it up. “I do not wish to invoke those when they are so angry with me.”

“‘Invoke.’ God, you are such a nerd sometimes,” Claire says.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says in return but keeps looking at the page, trying to think of an appropriate opening.

“You take that back.”

“Kids, don’t make me put you in time-out,” Jody warns.

“Okay, okay,” Charlie says, laughing. “We’re going for respectful with an overlay of ‘remember you love me and even though I lied and snuck off without you I did it to protect you but I am really sorry I almost got myself killed.’”

“And them as well,” Castiel says, frowning deeper.

“Hence, keeping it respectful,” Charlie says.

“Maybe you should just use their name,” Jody says. “And then you can pack the letter with as many ‘sweet nothings’ as you want.”

“Within reason,” Claire says.

“Which means there’s gotta be _some_ ,” Donna says.

“Yeah, okay, _some_.”

It’s almost like having Dean on one side and Sam on the other. But with the addition of two peacemakers, Castiel hopes he will end up with something acceptable.

Your name encapsulates everything you are. Others may share this name but the inflection given it by you, Sam, Dean, Castiel, everyone, makes it inherently different from any other creature or being in existence. It seems fitting, so he writes it (with perhaps a little flourish), and begins.

_‘Words can hardly describe how sorry I am for what happened–’_

“That’s a little bit of a cop-out, isn’t it?”

_‘–but I will do my best to try_ ,’ Castiel writes and gives Claire a stern look.

She snorts and lifts her head. “Admit it, I had a good point.”

“I was going to write that regardless.”

“Sure you were.”

_‘My actions were misguided but came from a place of love. I wanted to protect you.’_

Donna squeals and the other women hide their laughter.

“What are you going to do when he gets to the _really_ romantic crap?” Jody asks, smiling.

Donna responds with a much higher-pitched squeal.

Castiel smiles and continues.

_‘I have not been dealing with my fear well, as you know. I want to say I got better after the incident with the mermaid and on one hand I did. On the other hand it was a reminder of how easily you can be gone from this world you love so much. It’s not fair, how much you give, and how little you ask for in return. I want you to do what brings you fulfillment, but I also want you to live and enjoy the life you risk just so others may keep theirs.’_

Castiel pauses. The crowd is silent, so he assumes there are no objections and continues.

_‘Heaven is getting better but it is still no place for you, and so I fear. I know we’ve spoken about this, and it isn’t an excuse, but I think I am much better, aside from a few slip-ups. As the past shows, I am prone to make mistakes, and I have done it again._

_I am sorry I concealed this from you. Maroth wanted to hurt me and found humans inconsequential in his quest. I should have warned you, should have told Sam and Dean, and Gabriel–’_

“Oh my g- you didn’t even tell _Gabriel_?”

Castiel winces and glances at Charlie. “That’s a different apology,” he says and hunches over. He hears car engines in the distance and scribbles furiously.

_‘I should have done so much more but I didn’t. In my efforts to keep you safe I left you more vulnerable than ever and I am so sorry for that. Losing you would be the worst thing to happen to me, and to a great many others as well.’_

Castiel signs his name with love, and quickly folds up the letter and sticks it in his pocket before joining the group.

“Okay, some of us have to stick behind for clean up,” Dean says and looks right at Claire and Charlie.

“I’m more hunter tech support, these days,” Charlie hedges.

“Nice try, Eileen told us about the ghoul.”

Charlie pouts at Eileen, who smiles brightly in response.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Sam says, turning to look at you. “You wanna take Cas back to the bunker and try and get in touch with Gabriel?”

Finally, _finally_ , you look at Castiel and ask, “You okay riding with me?”

“Yes,” Castiel says so eagerly he almost speaks in five languages at once. He thinks he’s strained his tongue, but it’s worth it.

You nod and turn back to go to the car. Castiel starts for you but is waylaid.

“Good luck,” Claire says and claps his shoulder so hard he almost stumbles.

“You’ll be fine,” Jody says knowingly, and Donna and Charlie both move in to hug him before he is allowed to follow you as you walk in purposeful silence.

He can only hope Jody is right.


	29. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive home is awkward, and you and Cas are on two different icebergs floating around each other, drifting close but not quite coming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: A couple’s fight but only sort of?
> 
> A/N: Bear with me~

 

The window is down and cold air is cycling through the car as you drive. Castiel is caught somewhere between relief and anxiousness. The angel is dead and you’re both going home. You still won't speak to him. He has tried to make cautious contact but it has been…rebuffed. And not in anger, either. Anger, he feels he can handle. This is…

“It’s chilly out,” Castiel says.

You don’t respond right away. Castiel thinks you’re back to giving him the silent treatment when you ask, “Are you cold?”

Castiel blinks. Is he ever cold? “No.”

“Then why are you concerned about the temperature?”

“For your sake,” he says.

You turn inexplicably sour. “I would have thought,” you say slowly, “–you would have learned a _little_ lesson about assuming what’s best for me.”

In there is slight anger, but there’s more to it– sadness? Regret? Castiel can’t parse it and it’s driving him mad.

 

You sigh, because right now you don’t know what else to say. You’re mad. You're worried. Jody and the others cleaned Cas up of a lot of the blood but you can clearly see where he’s been injured. You picked up two vials of grace and situated them carefully in your bag where they won't get broken. You’re not sure if they’re Cas’s but you hope he and Gabriel can figure out what to do with them regardless.

Seeing him, chained to a wall and sliced in grisly ways that would have killed any human still rattles you. Granted, it’s only been a few hours, but you were hoping you’d be able to get past at least a little of it right now, but it feels like anything you say is too sharp and will cut too deep. You don’t want to fight. But you also just can’t pretend this never happened.

The wind is cold and gives you noise to focus on. It helps you stay awake, but you’re not going to tell Cas that. He’s approaching full-on grovel mode and he gets over the top and annoyingly protective when he’s feeling guilty. So you breathe in the cool night air and let your mind wander. It doesn’t wander far. You’re going to have your own fall-out to deal with, after this.

“I’m going to be hearing about this from Dean,” you say, eyes glancing to the rearview to check the road behind you. “About not waiting for them. About rushing ahead with no backup.”

Cas’s guilt seems to bloom anew. “It was my fault, though. I’m the one–”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. Again, it’s too rough, and you wince as Cas sinks into himself. You reach out hesitantly and pat his leg. “I’d do it again.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Cas says.

“It’s not supposed to make you feel anything,” you say. “It’s just a fact.”

Cas clears his throat. “I…I wrote you an apology letter.”

“Hm.” You keep your eyes on the road. “Read it to me.”

Paper rustles as he takes it out of his pocket and unfolds it. His voice is steady as he reads it through and you’re not sure if it’s the rote tone or the words themselves, but that– you’re torn between sympathy and anger. You _want_ to forgive him, but how can you when he doesn’t know what he’s really apologizing _for_?

He says your name and you sigh. Today was tiring. You’ve been nothing but tired since you found that–

“Oh, here.” You fish the ring out of your pocket and hand it to him without looking at him. “This is yours right?” You very carefully don’t mention the inscription. You don’t know if it’s supposed to be an anniversary gift or something and after the feather, well… You might be in a fight now, technically, but you’ll get over it, and you don’t want to mess up any more of his surprises.

“Oh, yes, it’s…” Castiel clears his throat and slips it in his own pocket. “How did you know it was mine?”

“There’s some Enochian in it,” you say. “Looked like your handwriting.”

“Yes, yes, I see,” he says, sounding relieved. But then he says your name, like he thinks things are back to normal, and you’re not ready to forgive just yet. Before he can truly apologize he has to know why, and you’re in no shape to tell him yet. So you flip on the radio and spend the rest of the drive trying to unlock the words jumbled in your head.


	30. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn’t know how to deal with your current relationship woes, and big brother Gabriel steps up to the plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am all about Cas-Gabe brotherly bonding. [Rolls around shamelessly.]

 

You make it home unscathed, and well ahead of everyone else. Castiel would never admit to helping that along, but, well…the car is very uncomfortable when one is trying to hold their body together, and he doubts you mind overmuch.

It’s hard to tell, though, because you are back to silence and Castiel isn’t sure why. Was the letter wrong? He knows it was written quickly, but he meant what he said, with all his heart. Or soul. Or…being. In any case, he tried to exude as much love and apology as he could. He truly does regret putting you in such a position of danger.

“Thank you,” he says when you open the door for him and offer your hand to help him out. You nod but again, say nothing. He says your name, pleading for something, _anything_.

“Not now, Cas,” you murmur. But as you help him to his feet he thinks he feels your lips against his temple, before you sling his arm around your shoulders and help him walk. Despite the broken leg, and ribs, and fingers, and the cuts and other wounds too deep for his weakened grace to heal, he feels better.

“Hey gu–”

You whip your gun from your side quick enough to put Dean’s favorite cowboys to shame. Unfortunately for Kevin, he is not expecting that and so drops a plate of food to the floor in his rush to put up his hands. “Relax!” he shouts, perhaps the ultimate antithesis of his plea. Luckily for Kevin, you are just as quick to recognize him and slide your gun back to your side with a heavy sigh.

“Hi Kevin,” you say and grip Castiel tighter.

“‘Hi?’” Kevin repeats incredulously and looks down at his lost food in sorrow, and then back at you with annoyance. “You pointed a gun at me!”

“You surprised me.”

“This place is protected.” Kevin frowns and looks worried. “It- it still is protected, right?”

“Hope for the best, expect the worst,” you say. “Don’t suppose your guardian angel is reachable? Prayers and phone calls have gone unanswered.”

“Oh, yeah, he brought m–” Kevin looks at Castiel for the first time and jumps in shock. “Cas, what happened to you?!”

“As Dean would say, ‘you should see the other guy,’” Castiel says and both you and Kevin help him to a reading chair set off to the side, still old and stiff but much more comfortable than the wooden seats at the tables.

“Seriously, I know angels can take a lot but you don’t look so good,” Kevin says and looks Castiel over. “Is the other guy _paste_?”

“Just about,” you say and look around. “Gabe!”

“Hold your horses; I was just about to–” Gabriel stops talking and appears in front of Castiel immediately. “What the _hell_ , Castiel?!”

No diminutive nickname makes Castiel wince. He knows trouble when he hears it. However then you are walking away and he calls out to you. You stop and look back, and then come over and hand something to Gabriel. “I’ll be right outside. I need some air,” you say, and walk right back out.

Castiel stares at the exit, and Gabriel lets out a low whistle. In his hand are two– oh, the vials of grace Maroth extracted. “I’m guessing the reason you’re in big trouble with them has something to do with these?” Gabriel says, eyes resting sharply upon Castiel.

Without anything left to do, Castiel tells Gabriel everything.

At the end of the story Kevin has wandered off due to squeamishness and Gabriel has healed, restored, and brought Castiel back to new. But the archangel looks almost as tired as you do. “I would say you’re in big fucking trouble, but I’m pretty sure anything I do now is gonna pale in comparison to what your partner’s got planned.”

“I can only hope they have something planned,” Castiel says, unable to keep his despair at bay.

Gabriel frowns. “What do you mean?”

Castiel shakes his head. “This is– there’s something different about this time and I don’t know what to do to make it better. What if this is too much? What if they no longer–”

“Okay, wow.” Gabriel puts his hands up and stares at Castiel. “Self-flagellation is way more of a thing with you than I’ve ever seen in anyone. As much as that might be appropriate punishment, I gave up the Trickster gig a while ago, so as your brother, Cas– that’s _stupid_.”

Castiel purses his mouth. “No, seriously,” Gabriel says. “You guys probably don’t fight enough if this is freaking you out that bad. Seriously; you fucked up but–”

“They won't hardly speak to me, Gabriel; they can barely stand to look at me,” Castiel says.

“They rescued you, what, a few hours ago?” Gabriel scoffs.

Castiel clasps his hands together in his lap and leans forward.

“Hey.”

Gabriel’s hand is gentle on his shoulder and Castiel looks up into a sympathetic expression. As sympathetic as Gabriel gets, at least. “I know it’s weird when you’re dealing with humans, because scale and all that, but sometimes you gotta wait it out.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Castiel asks.

But Gabriel shakes his head. “We both know them– are they the kind of person who is just gonna cut you lose without trying to at least hash it out?”

Castiel has an answer immediately, but has to think on it to make sure he isn’t just being hopeful. “…No,” he decides, and breathes deeply. Not that he needs to, but it does feel nice with lungs unpunctured. “No, they aren’t.”

Gabriel nods and brings Castiel in for a tight hug. Castiel is stiff at first, but relents. He can feel Gabriel’s grace worrying after his own, and he reassures his brother the best he can. “Well, I’ll call off the hunting party and spread the word.” Gabriel looks saddened. Castiel can sympathize. Mad as he was, Castiel can almost understand the effect that much grief can have on an angel unprepared for it. “By the way, you are _so_ grounded, and I mean that almost literally. You can hang out with your hunter pals but anything angel comes through me, got it?”

“Yes,” Castiel says.

“Good. And Cas?” Gabriel leans in one last time. “Don’t make trouble for yourself. Your partner just saw you with wounds that would have killed a human instantly. Knowing you’re an angel doesn’t make it much less of a shock to the system. They love you, and just about everyone who has ever seen how gross you two are knows how much they love you. The best thing you can do is give them time.”

He’s gone, likely driven off by the force of his own sincerity, and Castiel takes a moment to ponder the surprisingly good advice. Right. You have had a difficult night and Castiel thinks it makes sense. He has always had a much harder time seeing you in pain than experiencing it himself. Perhaps he needs some reflection as well. So, difficult it may be, he decides that he will, indeed, give you time.

That is, of course, when you call for him.


	31. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Castiel have a conversation. Castiel finally understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Said in the same tone of Crowley saying “Feelings!”] Emotions. Sorry for the monologue-ing, but it actually turned out better than I expected. Also, even if this part isn’t really your jam, I still think you might like tomorrow’s B) I am excite.

 

It seems like the second you call for Cas is the second he’s there. It’s not unexpected but it is nerve-wracking, especially with his crunched face and hand-wringing. You knew you’d have to calm him down, but this is ridiculous. “Cas, honestly; you look more afraid of me than you did that other angel.”

“I have so much more to lose,” Cas says.

And if that just doesn’t perfectly encapsulate the whole fucking problem. “I, at least, don’t want to torture and kill you.”

“But you are angry.”

“I’m angry, yeah. Also hurt. Also _massively_ disappointed.”

That last one makes Cas look contrite. “I thought the letter would help,” he says, voice low and quieter.

“As nice as the feeling behind it was– how could it?” you ask. “Cas, do you even know what you’re apologizing _for_? _Why_ I’m mad at you?”

“I ran into danger and almost got you killed.”

“Right on the first, wrong on the second.”

Castiel frowns. God; you love him but he is so thick sometimes. You can only shake your head and sigh. “This is so fucking frustrating, Cas; I don’t–”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Saying. That. Cas, you have no idea why I’m even mad.” You throw out your arms. “Yes, I’m pissed you lied to me; yes, I’m mad you took off without backup! Because _you_ almost got killed! _You_! How can you not get it, Cas?!”

“Explain it to me,” he says, mouth curling deeper into anger.

“You're an _angel_ you fucking idiot!” you shout, all of your anger and grief crashing out and over the both of you. “If you die you’re _gone forever_! Like, I get it, dying and being stuck in heaven would suck, but you’d still have me! If you die you’re _gone_! Gone where nobody, not even Gabriel, could reach you, and who knows if your dad would bring you back again!” You stomp forward, adrenaline coursing through with nowhere to go but shake your limbs like you’re a rickety tree trying to weather the storm. “Gone, gone, _gone_! And what am I supposed to do, Cas? Eventually I will be in heaven, no matter if it’s a monster or not. I’m not here forever. Am I supposed to spend eternity with a fucking _construct_? Something made of faulty memories? I want _you_ Cas.”

Your hands tremble but you bring them to hold his face. “I never expected to have anybody. Hunting’s a raw business and you say goodbye to everyone you know someday– sometimes without actually being able to say goodbye. I thought I’d be on my own because I never put in the work to make a real relationship happen. And then _you_ happened. You understand my life, what I want, and you accept that. I’m not going to have anyone else, Cas. It’s only you. It’s only ever going to be you, and if something tragic happens, well, that’s just our fucking luck, but you don’t have to _help_ it along.”

 

Castiel gapes at you. He thinks he’s starting to understand. He thinks– “How did you find me?”

You’re much calmer and you look away in shame as you speak. “I…used your feather. I had to destroy it to find you. I’m sorry, Cas; I know you and Gabriel worked real hard on it and I’m sorry.” You lift your head up to look at him again. “But I don’t regret it, because there’s no present, no _thing_ , that’s worth more to me than you are. And if you want to give me what I want the most, you’re going to have to look out for yourself too, because you’re the most important part of my life and you can’t claim to care about me without caring about yourself too, because _you_ matter to me most of all.”

He does get it. He understands, but more than that, he feels it. The anniversary was a looming shadow over him because he didn’t understand that at all. It seemed about gifts, about marking the time and celebrating a good thing. But he wasn’t supposed to just celebrate you. It was always meant to celebrate the both of you– you, and he, together. That was all that mattered. Sparing you the hunt, the over-concern he felt at the prospect of losing you– it took away from you. It took him away from you, from a part of you he has always adored.

You are not a thing to be protected and looked at. You are a being to be held close, to stand by his side. He thought he had it right. He has cherished you, certainly. But he didn’t understand how easy it was to slip from partner to overbearing boyfriend. He would regret it, but he doesn’t have the time. He has much to make up for.

He whispers your name and pulls you in for a kiss. It feels more right than anything has in a while. Out here under the moonlight, where you’ve spent so much time together over the past year, he kisses you deeply and breaks apart only to whisper apologies and kiss up your neck.

“Do you get it, Cas? I love you.” You hug him tight and he stays in your arms until your grip begins to loosen.

He can’t help but think that perhaps there is one present, one thing, that will matter to you most of all.

He takes your hands in his, and kneels.


	32. Something Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get for your significant other when all they want is you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: All the Fluff, seriously, it. Gets. So. Sappy.
> 
> A/N: I never thought I’d write something like this just because it’s generally not my bag, but it really feels appropriate. I guess I am a traditional romantic at heart, in some ways. Except for the part where I did some research, went ‘oh that’s nice,’ and threw 99% of it right out. I blame Gabriel. Just because. In any case– this has been A Month! Thanks to everyone for the kudos/comments/views; this has been nerve-wracking but also really fun. Really fun, and I am really looking forward to my really fun reward nap x) I will try to spruce up the tags within the next week; I really fell behind on those because I had time for this and not much else. My apologies. However, for now, please enjoy this fluffy fluff conclusion.

 

There’s an abandoned church in the woods, a mile or two from the bunker, sitting next to a long-abandoned road. The church is tiny and very traditional; still white, despite the years that have worn on it, featuring a steeple and lined with stained-glass windows that, while intact, have certainly seen better days. Normally it’s dusty, with broken pews and cracked walls. Normally it is quiet and empty, a peaceful respite for when you need to clear your head.

Today it is bright, clean, put together, and as _un_ peaceful as it can possibly be.

“I _swear_ I don’t normally cry at weddings!” Charlie flaps her arms and sniffles. “Is there something in the air?”

“Oh sweetheart; of course there is. It’s love.” Donna, also teary-eyed, hugs Charlie and hands her an extra handkerchief. You watch them console each other, mesmerized but also a little frightened. Aren't weddings supposed to be _happy_? Your gut twists, and, maybe you get the whole ‘conflicting emotions’ thing. This is exciting and wonderful and more than you could have ever dreamed.

It’s also terrifying.

Honestly you might rather face down a fallen angel. Because isn’t that an even better declaration of love than standing in front of all your friends? At least then you get to have a _knife_.

“Come on,” Jody says and pulls you away from Charlie and Donna to get some air outside, around the corner. “Don’t mind them. They’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Breathing, air– yes; that sounds good.

“Really.”

“I know,” you say, and away from Donna and Charlie’s emotional…distress? Happiness? Happy-stress? You start to breathe easier. At the end of the day, it’s still you and Cas and all your friends, basically having a big party. No strangers, no monsters; just you, the angel you love, and the people you love, having a good time. It’s going to be a good day.

You hope.

“Thanks Jody,” you say and hug her.

“No problem. Just remember: it’s all going to be fine,” she says like she’s laying down the law. You nod rapidly and she kisses your forehead before she goes inside. Where everyone else is.

You take a deep breath, and feel…settled, actually. Your friends have seen you doing worse and looking worse. It _is_ fine. But that’s normally when things start going wrong, so–

“Hey,” Sam says as he comes to stand next to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty okay, actually,” you say. “It’s starting to freak me out.”

“Don’t psyche yourself out now,” Sam says and brings you in with one arm for a hug. “You want to be with Cas, right?”

The reference to your angel makes you smile. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s no big deal. It’s the same, just…more official.”

“Right.” It’s just Cas. Your boyfriend. Fiancé. Husband-to-be. Almost-husband. What if–

“You're starting to freak out again, aren’t you?”

The look you give Sam must be pretty pathetic, because he brings you in for a full hug. “All right, uh…Gabriel’s taking care of the food after, so that’s something to look forward to.”

You would have thought the mere mention of food would make you ill, but if there’s one area Gabriel is especially knowledgeable in…

“Yeah, I thought that might cheer you up.” Sam rolls his eyes. “You and Dean.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean says and stands at your side. “If there’s anything Gabriel’s got taste in, it’s food.” Dean looks at you. “You're gonna regret letting him officiate, though.”

You shrug. “It was nice of him to offer. And since the whole point is to make this official…how much more official could it possibly be?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I always forget about that. Heaven is so screwed.”

“Hey now!” Gabriel leans on you on your other side. “Heaven is perfectly fine. I am an _exemplary_ leader.”

All three of you stare at him.

“I do _some_ stuff,” he grumbles and crosses his arms.

“Whatever. Figurehead,” Dean scoffs.

“You're more of a nerd than _Sam_ sometimes.”

“Take that back!”

You shift anxiously and wonder if you should stop them. Is this playful or for real? (They make it hard to tell sometimes.) What is it when people fight on your wedding day? Is it bad luck? Is this an _omen_?

“Hey, easy,” Sam says and runs his hand up and down your back firmly. “Breathe.”

“Yeah, easy Killer,” Dean says and, thank goodness, he and Gabriel look normal. “This is a good day.”

“Yeah! I’m almost your brother-in-law,” Gabriel says cheerfully.

That makes you smile. “You’ve always basically been my brother, Gabe.”

He blinks and looks momentarily stunned. Sincerity: an archangel’s true weakness.

“Hey, I thought we were your brothers,” Dean says suspiciously.

“You are,” you say and look at all three of them. Dean, Sam, and Gabriel; all good people who have helped you out from more than one bad situation, and stood with you through many more. “We’re one big pile of family.”

Dean, of course, starts gagging. “No way. Disowned!”

“Aw, bro; come ‘ere!” Gabriel says with arms opened and he chases Dean into the church.

Sam and you laugh for a few moments, until the inevitable– he stretches his arm and asks, “Are you ready?”

Are you? Sitting inside on newly-fixed pews inside the church are your friends, the closest thing you have t– no; your _family_ , waiting to celebrate a cornerstone of your life. And at the end of the aisle, beside Dean and in front of Gabriel, is Cas.

You link your arm with Sam’s and walk in with him. You’d had a quick debate with Cas about maybe walking down the aisle together versus one of you walking to the other. Gabriel had pointed out the doors weren't big enough for both of you to be escorted and flipped a coin, meaning lucky you had to be the center of attention at the very beginning.

Well, might as well get it over with, and at least Sam is with you. This isn’t exactly traditional, but nothing about your life really is. Although, after all you’ve been through together, you can’t imagine having anyone else at your side while you do this.

The doors open and you feel a thrill of nervousness– until a flash of light makes you hide your eyes, because that’s the only safe reaction you can have to something like that when angels are around. The light spots blink out quickly though, and you can hear Jody and Claire trying to quietly wrestle a camera away from Donna (and, apparently, Charlie). When you can see again, the first thing you note is Cas, at the other end of the church, trying to smother a smile while Gabriel actually tries to hold back laughter. He’s actually doing a better job than Dean is.

You smile sheepishly, and continue on. Sam keeps pace with you and you let him pay attention as you look at Cas. He’s so handsome in his suit, and the closer you get, the more awed _he_ looks as he stares at you. Eventually it feels like you’re the only two people in the room, but Cas looking at you like that doesn’t exactly put you at _ease_.

Holding his hands, though, is certainly a good start. His gaze softens, and–

“ _Honestly_ you two; we’re in a _church_ here.”

You and Cas jolt back, but just a step. You're still holding onto each other even as Gabriel clicks his tongue disapprovingly and the ‘congregation’ laughs.

“Like you haven’t done worse in one,” Kevin mutters just barely loud enough to hear.

“Hey, no heckling the officiate!” Gabriel points at him. “Or so help me I will turn this ceremony around!”

You and Cas both turn your heads to glare at Gabriel and he stands straight, clears his throat, and starts signing with his hands in tandem with his speech. “Dearly Beloved,” he says. “And Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“We are gathered here today because we are a hella mismatched group of misfits who have run into these two adorable idiots at some point or another. Sometimes for good, and sometimes for– well, no, it’s always because Bad Things are afoot, but life just sucks like that. In the end we’re lucky to have them watching our backs, or putting everything on the line to save the world– and then some. And now we’re here, celebrating the fact that they can finally put themselves, and each other, above all else. Dad knows they deserve it.”

There are two people sniffling in the audience. More than, actually, but you don’t look away from Cas. If this is the start of a new beginning, you’re going to do it right.

“They wanted to keep the ceremony tight, so we’re going to skip to the good bits,” Gabriel says. “First: if anyone has any issues with this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Even the happy crying dissipates, and the silence is resounding. And also comforting.

“Good!” Gabriel says cheerfully. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure at least one-half of the handsome couple has an angel blade on them.”

You wish. You had considered it, because Maroth is a very near memory, but no, you had decided to be polite.

You’d given it to Sam to hang onto.

“Castiel, would you like to say a few words?”

Cas nods and holds his shoulders back. He says your name, and then smiles softly. “I have lived for millennia, attempting to do what I was told until I finally learned how to do what was right. It has been a…learning experience.”

Claire snorts.

“And I am glad to have had you and our friends and family for it,” Cas continues. “And I am glad to continue on this path with you at my side, as my friend, my companion; my partner in everything. Father wanted us to love humans above all else and, while I am quite certain this isn’t what he meant, I am so grateful for his creations. For the earth, for those that came before you, and for every circumstance that allowed us to find each other that we may be here now.” He licks his lips and says your name again. “I could do nothing but stare at your soul for all eternity and be happy. I love you and look forward to that eternity.”

You have to take a moment. You try to ignore the sniffling, and get yourself together.

“I didn’t know I’d ever get married. I stopped thinking about that sort of thing after a while. This life isn’t really built for the long term.” You swallow and squeeze Cas’s hands. He squeezes in return and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand in light circles. “But however long I have, I’m glad I get to spend it with you. I’m glad we have each other. I’m glad I have you at my side, as someone to share and experience everything with. I loved you before I even knew I did and that feeling has continued to be a constant, calming presence. Even when _you_ give me a heart attack.”

Castiel ducks his head and a light rumble of amusement passes through the room. You bring his knuckles to your lips and don’t look away from him. “I would do it all the same, if given the choice,” you say. “I love you, Cas, and I’m looking forward to loving you for the rest of existence, as long as any part of me continues on, because _every_ part of me knows and loves you.”

You have to take a moment after that, and Cas looks like he does too. His lips are parted slightly, his grip is tight on yours, and his eyes are wide and bright and focused solely on you.

Gabriel clears his throat and says your full name. “Do you take Castiel to be your heavenly wedded spouse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, through witches and werewolves, angels and apocalypses, through good, through bad, through life and beyond?”

“I do,” you say, solid and sure. Gabriel asks Cas the same question and he replies just as strongly, also never looking away from you.

“Please exchange your rings.”

Onto your finger Cas slips the gold band etched with loving inscription, and onto his finger you place your favorite silver-iron ring, angelically resized to fit perfectly. If it helps him even half as much as it has saved you, it will more than prove its worth.

“By the power of Grayskull I now pronounce you married masters of the universe so just fucking _kiss_ already.”

 _That_ is a command you accept with enthusiasm and as you and Cas meet in one of the purest ways, in one of your favorite places, among the cheering of your most beloved people, you find a new definition of heaven.

 

Later that night you’re taking a breather out on top of the bunker under a clear, starry sky.

“May I join you?”

You smile back at Cas just before he dips down to kiss you. He hands you a glass of something that _looks_ like water and then sits beside you.

“You didn’t get this from Gabriel, did you?” you ask and sniff it even as you lean against Cas. “Or Charlie?”

“It’s water,” Cas chuckles and you take a swig to clear your dry throat. He brings an arm around to pull you in closer. “How is married life treating you?”

“So far? No complaints.” You look at him. “And you?”

“It’s wonderful,” he says. “Oddly…ordinary.”

Your smile grows. “The same, but better?”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” he says, smiling as well. “We would be together, regardless, but it is nice to declare it.”

That’s pretty spot on. “Also, it’s nice to have a party with our friends every now and then.”

“They certainly seem to think so,” Cas says under his breath.

“Well, we’re just as stuck with them as we are with each other,” you say.

“I can live with that. And more.” Cas raises his glass. “To our friends, and to us. Forever.”

You bring your glass to his and meet his lips with yours at the same time. The kiss is one of many that have come, and one of many _to_ come.

From where you’re sitting, forever’s looking pretty good.


End file.
